


Dangerous is the Vexed God

by maggiemerc



Series: The Monomythical Adventures of Regina Mills and Emma Swan [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Femslash, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 127,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggiemerc/pseuds/maggiemerc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan just wants to adjust to life in a post-Curse Storybrooke. She wants to get to know her kid. Get to know her parents. And maybe learn how to use her magic. But the town has an epidemic of flying monkeys, there’s a drunk pirate walking down Main half naked, Regina Mills keeps looking at her like she’s seen her naked,  and, oh yeah, someone’s killing off fairy godmothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am SO excited for part 3. I’m positively giddy. Hope you’re as stoked. And if you like it remember feedback is food to a writer. It keeps us energized and means faster chapter turnaround.

Thirty years and she still kept her greatest failures hidden in a series of padded rooms underneath Storybrooke’s only hospital.

The only thing that had changed was who occupied the rooms. Unshakable and eternally optimistic young women and lovelorn former magic mirrors had been traded for **her**.

A mother who’d only recently learned how to love.

There was no magic in the room Cora resided in. A stone constructed by Rumpelstiltskin and the Blue Fairy hung from the ceiling and leeched all the magic from the room.

So her mother looked more drawn than before. Dark smudges beneath her eyes and her skin translucent. She always **smiled** when Regina came. That translucent skin stretched tight as her lips contorted into something disturbingly **genuine**.

When she spoke some of the warmth fled. Cora’s was a cool voice, heart or no, and as human as she appeared to be just the timbre of that voice sent shivers through Regina.

She always ignored Regina’s minute spasms. Like her voice there were some parts of Cora that were just herself. She didn’t like blowzy shows of affection—positive or negative.

It was something familiar about her that Regina could still grasp, because the rest of her mother was so very different with  a heart. That word? Genuine? It was the only way to describe the changes.

She’d grown up thinking the artifice of her mother real. How queer it was to see it had been a lie.

All of it had been.

Regina had only visited her twice in her new prison, the first time her mother’s joy had been the most disturbing aspect of the visit. This second time it was her melancholia. A malaise that was no act.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said. And Regina was familiar with the attempt at guilt. But the spark of hurt was new and made her shift uncomfortably. 

“Gold—Rumpel suggested it.” She kept calling him Gold. It was the town’s influence. They’d all clung to the names she’d given them. She supposed it was habit or defiance but truthfully she was a little touched they all kept something of hers.

“He visits every day,” Cora said. And she sounded…fond of the man that had orchestrated all their lives with such callousness. 

She’d never spoken of Regina’s own father that way. Was it the heart beating in her chest? Or was it the man who’d taught her how to pluck it out?

“But I want to know about you.” Her mother leaned forward, the extravagant skirts of her dress spreading out around her. “How are you dear?”

“I’m fine.” The retort was reflex.

Cora’s eyes narrowed as she caught some lie in those two words. “He says you never leave your house.”

Regina had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “He may think he knows everything, but between his time spent with you and with Belle he’s missed a few things Mother. I’m out. Often.”

“Plotting revenge?”

“Living.”

“So you’ve forgiven Snow?”

She shrugged and peered down at her shoes, “Without her heart its just not as entertaining.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Her mother’s face softened into a very human frown. “I would.”

Cora didn’t **fight** anymore. Not Regina at least. She bowed and was apologetic and **maddening**. 

Regina started to stand.

“No, please.” Cora reached out, “How’s Henry? Your friends?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because you’re my daughter, and they’re important to you.”

There it was again. The sincerity. As though she really did care and it all wasn’t an act for sympathy. 

“Henry is choosing to stay in that awful apartment with Emma and her parents.”

“Isn’t he your son?”

“He is, but…trust was broken.” She could still remember the other Henry. Who’d felt so betrayed by her lies, and abandoned because of her zeal. She twisted the ring on her hand, “If this helps rebuild it then he can stay with them as long as he likes.”

“How can trust be rebuilt if he doesn’t even see you dear?”

“Because he’s my son. Because I too am familiar with rebuilding trust with a parent. He needs space.” She needed space.

Cora seemed to understand that, even if she prickled at the accusation inherent in Regina’s words. “You’ve learned patience.”

Regina had learned nothing of the kind. She just had the luxury of knowing a future. Seeing it. Henry needed space because another Henry had told her as much, and she could give it because she knew, after everything, he was still **her** son. A few months living with idiots in a tiny apartment with no privacy and he’d be back, and they would heal, and at least one love of her life would be salvaged.

“And your friends?”

It rankled to call them friends. Four Thieves or “those flaming assholes” sounded better in her head. “Friends” was the kind of word **Snow** would use. “My “friends” have adjusted,” she said. 

“I’m glad you have them. Everyone needs someone.”

“They care for me, and I care for them as much as I can, but they’re not **someone** Mother. That person is lost.”

Cora clearly thought of Daniel. Kind and sweet and killed by her own hand.

But Regina… Regina thought of the woman with the sad smile and the broken glasses. Taken, not by Cora’s hand, but by Regina’s.

She squeezed it into a fist.

Dwelling on the dead was worthless. Regina took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She put her grief aside and crossed her legs primly. “In my travels, in the time between you stabbing me and me arriving here, I met a woman much like you.” It **was** her. “She spoke of a brewing war.”

“There are always wars brewing.”

“Hm, but this one frightened her,” she leaned in, “and I assure you she did not frighten easy.”

“That was out there,” her mother waved to some nebulous beyond, “but we’re in Storybrooke. Accessible only by curse.”

“Or shiny shoes. Or a god’s gift. This world is not as walled in as you’d think, and if a war is coming we should be prepared.”

Her mother smiled, one somewhere between the pride of a good mother and the awfulness of an evil witch. “Then it’s a good thing I taught you how to lead.”

“You must have heard something. Before here?”

“You were out amongst those other worlds longer than me dear. Perhaps instead of looking for answers here,” she pointed at herself, “you should look for them there.” Her finger jabbed out and painfully poked Regina’s forehead.

She hissed in pain and sat back. “You’re not going to help me.”

“I wish I could.”

Cora, this Cora, with her heart and no magic and no town to rule, really **did** want to help, and really **did** have nothing to offer. Regina sighed and stood.

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m afraid so Mother. Unlike some people in this room I have plans.”

“Plan to stare at my grandson from the street and do nothing to reclaim him?”

“No. I have a dinner party to go to. With friends.”

The word that had rankled her cut through her mother, and the stricken look warmed her all the way to Aurora’s home.

 

####

She hadn't been asleep exactly, but Emma had managed to tip her desk chair back to the perfect angle. Her legs had been stretched out and resting on her desk and she had her butt in optimum non-butt asleep position. She'd collected her pencil and was trying that rubber pencil thing Mary Margaret kept telling Henry **not** to do with his fork at the dinner table.

But the stupid station phone rang, spoiling her balance, her pen trick, and her evening. Also her self-esteem. Because the ringer on those stupid phones from the 80s was louder than God and scared her so badly she tipped **backwards** instead of forwards.

Her legs shot skywards as she slammed into the floor and she had to do a sloppy roll out of the chair that would have lost her the princess pageant she was pretty sure Aurora and Mary Margaret wanted to have. She scrambled across the floor to the phone. "Sheriff's department," she asked a little breathlessly.

The raised eyebrow could be **heard** over the line, "Did I interrupt something," Regina asked.

"No. Just—what?"

Regina sighed. And yes she sounded very put upon, but there was also a little tremor too. "You need to come to the Basile residence."

"Are you…inviting me to dinner with Sleeping Beauty and her parents?" Mulan had been begging for the night shift all week to get out of the dinner.

"No Em—Miss Swan. I'm not." She didn't fail to notice the aborted “Emma.” Regina did that a lot since the Enchanted Forest. Called her Emma and then rolled it back to a Miss Swan like she was an itinerant and feckless bail bondswoman and she was an all-powerful mayor. She was pretty sure people were going to start thinking that was her name soon.

"Did you hear me Emma?"

Ha! She said her name that time. No Miss Swan. No—wait what? "What'd you say?"

"I said there's been a murder."

 

####

The victim was one Sister Merryweather. No last name. Fairies didn’t have last names. These nuns didn’t either. Which probably explained why the Curse had shoved them all into the convent.

The poor woman was deader than dead when Emma arrived. All she could see was the bright blue of her habit and two tiny feet clad in heeled boots that looked straight out of the 1800s sticking out of a pond. The boots weren’t **that** bad. It was the spats that made were bad. Made those two feet look like they belonged to some wicked witch shoved under a house. But she probably hadn’t been that wicked, and instead of under a house she’d been plopped into the pond at the center of the Basile estate.

She was face down. The voluminous cloth of her habit floating around her body and her arms stretched out like she’d been asking Jesus himself to come take her soul. The flashing lights on top of Emma’s cruiser flashed on the scene, making all the huge topiaries surrounding the pond appear a little nightmarish.

Regina stood next to the body. She was back in her “Mayor Mills” clothes after her time in the hospital. Grey slacks and white silk shirt and a tailored coat the went to her knees. Only the white bandage wrapped around her hand hinted at where she’d spent almost a month and a half. It stood out with her arms were wrapped around herself to fight off the oncoming chill of fall. 

She looked irritated. Which… Okay Regina **always** looked irritated. It was her default state. She’d probably shot out of Cora looking that way. 

Emma hit the brights on her cruiser to better illuminate the scene and Regina had to shade her eyes with her bandaged hand so she could know **who** she was frowning out.

“Is blinding me really necessary,” she called when Emma got out of the car.

“I was trying to get some light on things. Do the Basiles not own outdoor lighting?”

“I’m sure I could ask,” but Regina didn’t make any move to do so. She stood there, one hand now in her pocket while the other kept shading her eyes.

“Where’s the coroner?”

Regina raised any eyebrow. “Until you came along this town hadn’t had a death in twenty-eight years.”

“So no coroner?”

“None.”

“Fine. How about call the hospital and have them send over an ambulance then.”

“While you…?“ Regina was entirely too skeptical. It couldn’t be healthy for her.

Emma held up her phone. “While I document the scene. And try not to go far though I need—“

“A statement. Yes. The others are all inside sobbing or drinking and waiting for you to play at detective.”

Then, doing exactly as asked, Regina took a few steps away and drew out her phone. She tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear as she spoke and when she noticed Emma was staring at her like an idiot she motioned back towards the body with irritation.

So Emma knelt down, pulled on some rubber gloves, and did the whole murder thing.

It was, technically, her first murder investigation. Being a bail bondswoman didn’t really lend itself to solving crimes. But she’d read plenty of mysteries, watched the dumb instructional videos Graham had insisted she watch when he first gave her the job and she liked to think she was a pretty good problem solver.

And how difficult could it be to solve a murderer who had to have left some big ass clues compared to finding a runner with nothing but a vague description of their face and their preference for cheap beer? Investigating was investigating, didn’t matter what the crime was.

So she did what she would have done when tracking a perp. She took a **lot** of photographs with her phone. Photos of the body, and the water, and the first few leaves falling to spell the end of summer and beginning of fall.

“That going on your Instagram,” Regina asked over her shoulder.

Emma looked back in alarm. “You know what Instagram is?”

“I have a passing familiarity.”

From Aurora no doubt. Since moving to Storybrooke she’d absorbed the new world’s culture like a **sponge**. Emma found her hunched over a computer at the station every damn day. She’d had to go buy her reading glasses when her eyes got too tired, and then Aurora had balked at the style, learned what an optometrist was, and now had a very stylish custom pair. And it was almost exclusively so she could browse Instagram and Pinterest. 

 **That** was a whole other addiction. She kept getting ideas for clothing from Pinterest, making them, and then bring them in and insisting Sheriff Swan and her fellow deputy, Hua, try them on so they could be both functional **and** fashionable.

Hook, who was somehow still their friend, tagged along for most of the fashion shows. Him and his fucking parrot. Between the two of them and Aurora the station had become a mess of inappropriate and cutting comments.

The only upside was that Mary Margaret stopped stopping by to “check up” on Emma while she worked. The last time she’d come she’d been dragged into doing a walk down the makeshift runway and having her outfit disparaged by a bird.

She’d been…upset.

“You know I don’t believe there’s actually an app for that,” Regina said. She was still standing behind Emma and still being a nosy—whatever.

“What?”

She motioned at Emma’s phone, still clutched in her hand with the screen on. “I don’t think they make an app that just **solves** the crime for you.”

“I know that,” she snapped. 

“Are you sure?”

Not another rude comment. Just the question. Emma stood up and shoved her phone into her back pocket. “Yes, I’m sure. **And** I know how to investigate without an ‘app’ or whatever.”

“A murder isn’t looking for Pongo when he runs off.”

“No, it’s more like looking for this sleazy guy who ran a little meth empire and skipped his bail. It’s hunting for bad guys and I’m really good at that.”

Her boast was met with Regina’s frank appraisal. “Yes,” she sniffed, “I suppose you are.” The up down look and haughty approval weren’t supposed to **sear** quite like they did. Every damn time Regina looked at Emma it was sort of like Regina was thinking about fun things they could do naked. And it wasn’t even sketchy like when Hook did it. It was more like she already… **knew** what naked Emma was like in bed. Like she knew and she **missed** it.

Emma shuddered. “Any idea on the ETA for the ambulance?”

“They’re on their way and—“

“Emma!”

Both women turned to see David nearly forget to put his truck in park in his race to get to them. “Are you okay,” he shouted.

“Yeah,” she glanced at Regina, who watched the two of them with barely contained mirth, “I’m fine. What are **you** doing here?”

“I heard what happened and came to help.”

“Heard from—“ She glanced at Regina again. 

The other woman held her hands up, “Wasn’t me dear.”

“Then?”

“Merryweather’s sisters called the Mother Superior and she called Mary Margaret and I. Your mother has Ruby watching Henry and is talking to the nuns at the convent.”

God damn—Emma had to take a deep breath to keep from railing against the guy. Because she knew he **meant** well. He and Mary Margaret both did. But between living with them and dealing with their overprotective and overbearing parent act she was getting close to strangling them.

Probably Mary Margaret before David. The guy could get a lot of mileage out of his one-eyed wounded puppy look. The spot where his eye had been had finally healed enough for him to switch from big white bandages to an eyepatch. It was black and very tasteful and when Hook had seen it he’d waved his hook and said “welcome to the pirate life matey” and his awful should be roasted and served with carrots and potatoes bird had squawked something about how it was an improvement.

So really the strangle list went Mary Margaret, that fucking bird, **then** David. She suspected that telling him he was number three and not number two on the list wouldn’t be taken as the compliment it definitely was.

“I got this,” she told an expectant David. “And the nuns too. All of it really. You guys can, like, go do wedded reunited bliss or something.”

Regina snorted.

“We want to help.” God that stupid one-eyed puppy look.

“Right. I get that, but—“

“But you and your wife have a tendency to take over every project you attempt to ‘help’ with,” Regina interjected. “You seem to keep forgetting you’ve moved from a feudalistic society to a democratic one.”

David scowled, “And who’s fault is that?”

“If you two start fighting about the curse again I’m putting both of you in a holding cell and leaving Hook’s bird to stand guard.”

The mere **idea** of that was enough to get them both to shut up.

“David,” the puppy dog look got worse when she said his proper name and she gave in. A little. It wasn’t like she was an unfeeling **monster**. “If you really want to help you can get my voice recorder out of the cruiser and try and take statements in the house.”

“Are you su—“

“Yes.”

“And Regina?”

The other woman stepped closer, her eyebrow raised, “You can maybe tell me why the hell someone drowned a nun.”

 

####

Being in the hospital recuperating from a cursed knife wound that should have killed her got Regina out of two different “meet my friends” dinners with Aurora’s mothers.

She got out of the third and fourth one by conveniently having “Henry” time.

Number five she’d skipped by getting Killian drunk and then calling to say she needed to sober him up.

She’d nearly managed avoiding a sixth dinner but Aurora had shown up at her house and threatened to tell everyone about the thing with her and the bevy of blond sirens.

Having a reputation to maintain, Regina had finally acquiesced. She prepared a lovely apple cobbler and arrived at the Basile residence at exactly six o’clock. Mulan had opened the door and welcomed her with the wide eyed look of an exhausted and out of her element woman.

Back on the boat Mulan had insisted that she wanted to meet Aurora’s family, but actually **living** with Aurora’s mothers in the giant mansion the curse had given Briar Rose Basile had proven…trying. They cooed a lot more than Mulan was used to. And hugged. They were **really** big on hugging.

That was where the perk of being the evil queen who cast a curse paid off for Regina. Between her overly polite smile, well known former friendship with Maleficent and the **apple** pie Aurora’s mothers had both met her with a great deal of disdain.

“They dislike you more than me,” Killian had mumbled when he arrived.

“They only dislike you because you ask keep bringing Sinbad and he keeps asking for a threesome,” Mulan had said out the side of her mouth in a low enough voice for Aurora and her mothers not to hear. 

Killian had downed half his snifter of brandy. “Which is why I left him back on the boat this time.”

Killian was the only one of them still living on the Jolly Roger. Regina wouldn’t have said it aloud, but she was worried about how much time he spent out on his boat just…polishing the mast.

It couldn’t be healthy.

Neither she or Killian, or even Mulan, had been prepared when at seven o’clock Aurora’s fairy godmothers had arrived. All three of them. And they’d brought **mirth**. The cloying kind of joy that put Regina’s teeth on edge.

They’d even smiled at Regina and hugged her like they cared.

It was repulsive.

“Isn’t it wonderful to have us all together,” Aurora had asked.

And maybe for her it **was** wonderful. She had her parents, her girlfriend, her best friends, and the three godmothers she hadn’t seen in decades. It was her happy ending.

Which was the only reason Regina didn’t snipe the **whole** dinner. As much as she disliked fairies and unfettered princess joy she wasn’t about to ruin the happy ending of someone who actually…

Aurora **cared**. Genuinely. And what’s more, unlike **some** princesses who would remain nameless, she backed up her professions of caring with action.

Which was why Regina had felt a little miserable when, around nine o’clock that night, Aurora had gone looking for her shortest godmother and found her dead in the pond. Seeing a happy ending marred wasn’t quite so pleasant when one liked the person.

She didn’t tell Emma that when she’d asked her what happened. **This** Emma would have balked at her empathy and then lowered her voice and asked Regina how she **really** felt.

Instead Regina told her about the dinner and how Merryweather had bustled herself outside because she found the enormous garden at the back of the Basile estate so “gorgeous” and needed be alone to commune when nature. And how when she’d been gone a good long while Aurora had told everyone she was off to see what was keeping her .

Aurora’s screams had brought the rest of them out, and they’d gathered around the body while Regina reached out and tried to see if there was some flicker of life she could use to bring the woman back.

There’d been none. So they’d all gone inside to drink stiff drinks and wait for Emma and Regina had stood outside staring at a dead body and wondering why, if her curse was broken, were all the happy endings such shit?

 

####

“You guys were just enjoying dinner?” Emma was skeptic.

“You seem skeptic.”

She ignored the way Regina’s lips quirked up into a half smile when she spoke. 

“Well, I mean, it’s you and Hook.”

“Yes,” she looked away like she was too cool to be bothered, “and Mulan and Aurora. They wanted us there for dinner.”

“With a bunch of fairies you cursed.”

She shrugged, “They’re forgiving. Must be all that nun in them now.”

Regina made it sound incredibly dirty. The wolfish smile didn’t help.

“Classy.” Emma knelt beside the body again and looked back towards the house, “So you hear screams, all run out and she’s dead.”

“As my ex-husband.”

Emma would ignore that. “And no one was away from the group?”

“No one but Aurora, who probably **didn’t** kill her beloved fairy godmother.”

“Maybe.” There was no sign of an actual weapon, just water everywhere and a face down nun.

“The woman was technically her aunt, and instrumental in raising her,” Regina said quietly, “She wouldn’t go sitting on her head while she drowned in a pond.”

“Someone could have taken her heart, forced her to.”

“Her heart’s intact.”

“You sure?”

Regina’s eyes were dark with some kind of story Emma really didn’t want to know about. “I assure you, I’m now quite sensitive to heart magic. If she didn’t have her’s I’d know.”

It was that “now” that raised Emma’s curiosity—No. She shook her head. No, she was definitely **not** going to ask Regina to elaborate.

“Okay, so either Aurora murdered her for reasons unknown, or someone was waiting for Merryweather’s little walk.”

“Or someone used a disappearing bolas to knock her in and keep her trapped until she died.”

As serious as Regina sounded Emma could only side eye her, “Yeah, I’m gonna stick with my theories.”

“What’s wrong with mine?”

“It sounds ridiculous?”

“The dead woman is known to a few generations of children as a huffy little blue fairy.”

Point. But Regina didn’t have to look so smug about **making** her point.

“All right, your **majesty** , any other ideas? Maybe some CSI super zoom or some spell that reenacts the crime.”

“You’re trying to be sarcastic but to most people in town you’d just sound like an idiot Emma.” She refused to believe anyone would find the disappearing bolas theory viable.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“It’s a no,” Regina said with a sour look. “I can, however, help, if you’d allow it.”

She waved to the body as an invitation.

“That’s it. I ask and you just let me?”

“Gotta trust someone right?”

She immediately regretted her choice of words. Regina’s face softened like she was genuinely **touched** and the locket Emma hadn’t taken off since the Enchanted Forest flared against her chest with an unfamiliar heat. It had always been cold when Regina had looked her.

“Emma…” Regina started—her eyes vulnerable.

“Either someone did a helluva job coaching them or they’re telling the truth,” David announced loudly. He came lumbering through the leaves and Emma was kind of surprised she hadn’t heard him earlier.

Regina coughed and seemed to hide a blush by kneeling down to peer at the body.

Giving her space to do whatever it was she was gonna do Emma turned back to David. “Stories all check out?”

He wagged the dictaphone at her, “They’re all basically the same. Dinner, she left, Aurora eventually went after her, body.”

“They give any clue as to who would want to kill her?”

“She was a fairy,” Regina said, “list would be sizeable.”

David actually agreed, “Fairies tend to make enemies, especially with the unsavory kind of people. She piss you off recently Regina?”

“Well, she hugged me, but that hasn’t been a murderable offense in at least ten years.”

He rolled his eye.

“A joke,” Regina said.

“We noticed. What about the other evil in town?”

“How should I know? It’s not like I keep in touch with them.”

“Could you get in touch,” Emma asked.

Regina didn’t seem crazy about the idea. She hugged herself tightly and looked away for a moment. Like she was trying to pull herself together and prepare.

“I mean, if you can’t, David and I can do it.”

“No,” she tried to smile, “No, I can do it.”

“Shouldn’t we get the Mother Superior to do it,” David asked. “Because, no offense Regina, but you could have killed this lady.”

“So could the Mother Superior,” Emma said, surprised at how sharp she sounded, “Regina has a solid alibi and she’s agreed to help, so she’s who we’re using. Okay?”

The ambulance had arrived by that point and the two EMTs were in the back gathering the body bag and gurney. 

Emma went and knelt next to Regina, “Times about up. Any clues?”

Regina waved her hand and the body glowed purple. “She was casting magic when she died.”

“And you can tell…?”

“It’d be white if she hadn’t,” she said simply.

“So she was defending herself.”

“Perhaps.” Regina’s eyes scanned the pond. “She, or the person that killed her, did something.” She held her hand out and red hot sparks burst against her fingers. Emma thought she smelled something burning but Regina didn’t even flinch. “I can’t see **what** spells were cast.”

“So either she was protecting the killer—“

“Or the killer is a magic user as well.” She dropped her hand and the glow around the body disappeared. “Either way, I’d be careful who you trust. Any fairy, witch or wizard could have done this.”

“Except you?”

“Oh I could have done it.”

Emma sighed.

“But I didn’t. And I rather like to know who did.”

“Looking for murder tips?”

Regina’s lips quirked up into a half smile of amusement, “Something like that.”

Which meant **nothing** like that.

The two of them stood in companionable silence and watched the EMTs’ careful removal of the body. David stepped away to make phone calls to his wife and Regina, in a surprising show of maturity, didn’t make a snide comment about it.

“You seem a little…”

Regina raised an eyebrow.

“ **Nicer** than usual,” Emma finally said.

“You’re suggesting I’ve changed,” she asked in wry amusement.

“No.” She said quickly.

Regina shrugged. “I can be nice, you know.”

Emma wasn’t sure of that. Regina claimed to be different but Emma still saw that woman that made her first year in Storybrooke hell and killed Bluebeard. Just because she’d saved them all from Cora and now had a couple of friends didn’t mean she was different.

“How has Henry’s first week at school been?”

Emma went with the change in topic smoothly, “Good. Better than most of the kids. Thirty years of the same curriculum and I think they were kind of set in their ways. Henry’s taking on a real leadership role.”

Regina looked pretty shrewd for a minute. “Just be careful. The town may see him as your son now, but they remember him as mine.”

“You think someone would try to hurt you through him?”

“I think this town isn’t all the lollipops and hugs Snow and David like to claim it to be. People will surprise you Emma, even the best of them.”

“The worst too.”

 

####

Regina found herself smiling at what was clearly a complement.

Which made Emma blush.

Emma wasn’t very good at giving compliments if they weren’t to an eleven year old. She rubbed at her neck and looked back towards the house. “Guess I should go talk to them, let Mulan and Aurora know they don’t have to come in tomorrow and junk.”

“Really,” Regina raised her eyebrow, “you’re giving them the day off after a murder?”

“Of someone they knew!”

“As someone who had to share uncomfortably close quarters with both women I can safely say they don’t need the time.”

“Isn’t Aurora, like, crying?”

“Yes, one of her beloved aunts has just been drowned in her pond. But that’s tonight. Tomorrow she’ll want justice, or at least a lot of filing to keep her busy.”

One of the EMTs, noting how close Regina was to Emma, glared pointedly before going to David instead. The glares happened almost as much as the quick avoidance of eye contact in post-Curse Storybrooke.

Regina didn’t mind too often. The latter was amusing, and the former was condescending, but harmless. It was only when either ended with things not happening that she needed to happen. Like she needed to know the body was being transported and to where and, maybe more importantly, the **sheriff** needed to know that too. Not some deputized princeling.

Charming shook the EMT’s hand like a real nice guy and then made his way over to them, his head ducked so his one eye could watch the ground.

“They’re taking the body back to the hospital and putting it in the cafeteria freezer.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “Why not the morgue?”

“Because we don’t even have a funeral home,” Regina said. “Is someone doing an autopsy?”

David shrugged, “That’s up to Emma. If we need someone I’m sure Whale will do it.”

The mention of his name sent a vile feeling through Regina and she had to swallow back a bit of bile. “There’s no one else?”

“You’re the one that said he was Frankenstein.”

That had been one of her first tasks when she’d come back, outing the “good” doctor and threatening him within an inch of his life. Emma had dragged her off of him and asked her what the hell it was about.

Regina had decided **not** to tell her that maudlin little story.

“He **likes** dead bodies, doesn’t mean we should have him carving them up,” she countered.

David and Emma shared an identical look. “Whale’s doing the autopsy Regina, but if you want you can come tomorrow and watch.”

Regina was surprised, “You’re not doing it tonight?” 

David looked down at his phone and Emma shrugged, “Not like the killer is going anywhere. Unless you or one of the three in there did it.”

That was the one part of the whole murder Regina was sure of. “We didn’t.”

“So it can hold until tomorrow.”

“Uh,” David looked a little pale. “The Mother Superior and Mary Margaret are already headed to the hospital to watch.”

“Well they can un…head or whatever. And they’re not watching anyways! Sheriffs and deputies only.”

“And the mayor,” Regina said helpfully.

“And the mayor—Are you still mayor?”

She jerked her chin in David’s direction, “Not like his wife is doing it.”

“Because you made her a 4th grade teacher instead of a civil servant!”

“We’ll hold emergency “the mayor is an evil queen” elections **later** David. Right now she’s helping us hunt for a killer and I need her there for magic…”

Regina and David both raised an eyebrow in anticipation.

“Stuff.”

Locquacious as always. Regina would have smiled fondly but the two of them would have seen it and been idiots about it.

David, much less argumentative then before the eye patch waved his hand. “Fine. I’ll go cut your mother off at the pass.” He pegged Regina was a cool gaze, “See you bright and early.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she said as cooly.

Emma shuddered when her dad turned away and when he was out of earshot she asked, “Can you two be any more frigid?”

“We’re just being polite.”

“At subzero temperatures. I think I got goosebumps.” She held her arm, still covered by her jacket, out as evidence.

Regina refused to look. “That’s the onset of fall. I shouldn’t have to remind you that it’s brisk here in Maine.”

It was the rueful shake of the head and little smile Regina caught out of the corner of her eye that told her it was safe to turn and face Emma directly.

The Sheriff, once more at ease, hitched her thumb in the direction of the house. “I’m gonna go have a chat with you little gang. Care to join us?”

“I’m afraid I can’t. You asked me to help remember.”

“And that’s—“

Regina shoved her hands back into her coat pockets and stalked closer, “This town is just filled with all sorts of vile and malicious witches and wizards Emma,” she leaned in closer than was appropriate and smiled, “and **you** asked me to help stop one. Shouldn’t I get started?”

 

####

Regina was entirely too close. Close enough that Emma could see the outline of the chain she wore around her neck, and the fine hairs on her cheeks and even the little wrinkles in her lips—Eye to eye Swan!

She tried to stare Regina down. Just looked her in the eye like they always did. Regina didn’t stare back with the hunger for a challenge or that incredibly **fiery** kind of rage of hers.

If anything she looked…nervous.

Like she was putting on a show for Emma to cover up the fear. Which…it made sense. Emma was asking her to help hunt a killer and to dredge up relationships she hadn’t touched in thirty years or more. In her shoes Emma would have been scared too.

She knew Regina well enough not to call her out. It was fun to piss her off, but she needed Regina focused and preferably not wounded in the pride department.

“Yeah,” she said, “you probably should.”

Regina’s mouth set in a firm line and she nodded. “Good.” Turning away she paused to call over her shoulder, “And see that Killian gets home would you? I suspect he’s had far too much to drink.”

That suspicion proved to be accurate, and after chatting with Aurora, her parents, two distraught nuns and a mildly irritated Mulan, she slung Hook’s arm over her shoulder and dragged him to her cruiser.

The pirate laid out across the backseat and she had to role the window down so he could stick his feet out after he spent a good fifteen seconds smacking the glass with his heel.

She looked back at him when she stopped at a stop sign. His permanent scruff had grown into a full grown beard and he had the ruddy cheeks and nose and sallow skin of a drunk.

“Think you should maybe start laying off the rum Captain Jack.”

“It’s Kill-i-an,” he enunciated.

“It’s drunk.”

“That too,” he scowled and one of his heels clanged against the door’s frame. “I’d be much more sober if you lot just let me murder the imp.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“ **You’ll** arrest me. As will the lovely sapphic sisters serving as your deputies. And Regina…” He smashed his boot against the outside of the door again in frustration.

“Hey! You don’t pay taxes so how about you lay off city property.”

“She says I can’t kill him. Says it isn’t **time**.”

Which made it sound like there would eventually **be** a time. “You think she’s got his murder all plotted out and is just waiting huh?”

“No, I think her mother’s in love with the bastard and she can’t bear to break the bitch’s heart.”


	2. Chapter 2

Regina Mills was not a morning person.

Emma didn’t expect that. She’d assumed Regina was one of those nuts up at the crack of down milling her own damn flour for her bread and grinning condescendily at anyone who had just staggered out of bed.

As she considered that idea she realized it was about the exact opposite of Regina, who was a spoiled queen who’d lived half her life in a town created to personally please her.

Of course she’d be offended at the sun for rising.

“Want some coffee Regina?”

“I want eight hours of sleep and that obnoxious smile of yours flayed off your face.”

Despite her miserable look Regina was put together. Her hair was in place and her clothes neat. She’d even applied makeup to the dark bags under her eyes. 

“You slept for one week straight in the hospital. How can you still be tired?”

Regina held up her bandaged hand, “I was in a coma because of a curse!”

“David’s up,” she motioned to the end of the hall where David was yawning and scratching his belly. “And he was in a coma for twenty-eight years.”

Regina pretended to ignored her, “I take it back,” she said. “I **do** want coffee.” She disappeared in a puff of purple.

Emma was never gonna get used to Regina's new found fondness for just—puffing places like a pretty non-blue version of Nightcrawler.

At least this time it was excellent, if accidental, timing. Whale, in his rumpled white coat, pushed through the door, a stiff body on a gurney being wheeled behind him like a macabre parade.

Since coming back through the portal Regina had a unique and **intense** aversion to the doctor. Her second day out of the coma Emma had come in and found her weak and pale and using her magic to crush Whale’s throat with an IV stand.

She refused to tell anyone **why** she hated him. Emma had even asked Mulan and Aurora about it. They’d both shrugged and Aurora had said something about how “she doesn’t talk much about what happened over there.”

“Over there” being the mysterious place that had changed Regina and left her with nothing but those lingering looks of hers and that locket around her neck.

It was unnerving as hell and something Emma worked **really** hard not to think about. Fairytale lands and princesses and princes for parents were bad enough. She wasn’t going to add the time travel implied by Regina to the mix.

Emma and David followed Whale into an OR where the orderlies lifted Merriweather's body onto an empty table. The doctor slipped on rubber gloves that went up to his elbows and a black plastic apron and big magnifiers that made him look like a creep. He picked up a sharp looking scalpel and smiled way too happily for Emma’s taste.

“Now then,” he asked, “shall we begin?”

 

####

Regina could have gone to the hospital cafeteria for her coffee, but she’d lived nearly six weeks in that hospital recuperating and the cafeteria had stored a dead body all night. So she went to Granny’s instead.

The diner had been completely restored since the battle. According to Henry Rumpelstiltskin had even assisted the fairies in the final days of the rebuild—which meant the building was probably laced with magical listening devices now.

It didn't stop Regina from going in. And neither did the old widow who ran the place. She was still sore about Regina knocking her unconcious and disguising Mulan as her.

And the curse.

And the destruction of her diner.

She was really sore about that last one.

Even though everything (curse excluded) had been in aid of saving her life and the lives of all her patrons who happily paid way too much for a second rate lasagna.

She glared hatefully at Regina when she stepped through the door, her eyes beady and judgemental.

“Oh please,” Regina said aloud, “It’s not like I kicked your puppy.”

“You have kicked me,” Ruby said from her spot behind the counter, “Twice that I remember.”

Water under the bridge.

Regina waved dismissively and avoided eye contact, looking around the room at the various patrons—who all looked back with a mixture of fear and irritation. “Can I please just have a coffee? Large, black, devoid of excrement?”

Aurora, sitting all alone in a booth by the door and reading something on her tablet, snickered.

Regina zeroed in on her with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you’d be wallowing in bed this early." The clock over the counter said it was only six forty five.

Aurora motioned to the empty bench across from her and Regina took a seat. “Couldn’t sleep last night. Been here since five.”

“Reading?”

“Research.” She waved down at the iPad she'd special ordered with her mother's credit card. “Apparently this land has hated witches for centuries."

"I assume you're reading about Salem?"

"One of their favorite methods of murder was drowning," she frowned at the screen. "They'd hold them under until the confessed or died.”

Regina had a bad feeling she knew where this conversation was headed, and played with Aurora's napkin, forgotten on the table.

“According to this,” Aurora glanced down at the screen again, “Wikipedia, you can’t even scream when you’re drowning.”

Regina shifted uncomfortably—twisting the napkin around her fingers of her good hand. Aurora had her prescription reading glasses on, and the faint tint of the lenses masked some of the dark emotion in her eyes. Emotion most would considered decidedly un-princess-like. She started, “Aurora…”

“You try to breathe but you can’t, and your head is under water so any sounds you make are muffled. You’re alone.” She looked up over the frames of her glasses. Her gaze was cool.

“Merryweather wasn’t alone when she died.”

“We were inside laughing and drinking—“

“And she was murdered. I’m aware. But dwelling on it— **empathizing** with the dead—helps no one.”

“You’re helping Emma find the monster who did this aren’t you?”

“I’ve offered my services as a magic expert and she's agreed.”

“Tell her I can help. Tell her I can—“

Regina reached out and snatched Aurora’s wrist. “I know what you’re capable of.” She hoped the squeeze she gave her was comforting instead of alarming. She could never be sure how people would react.

A long shadow pass over their table as Ruby arrived with Regina’s coffee. Her bright eyes were focused on Regina’s hand. Specifically the unbandaged one wrapped around Aurora’s wrist. Her lips—not quite as painted since the curse broke—were pursed in condemnation. 

Regina yanked her hand away and reached for her coffee, “Took you long enough. Were you picking the beans yourself?”

She fired back, “Milking the cow."

Aurora looked up at the werewolf in surprise, “You have a cow?”

“What?”

“She was making an attempt at sarcasm,” Regina explained. “She’s about as successful at it as her best friend.” 

Ruby glared and stalked away.

“You should be glad she can’t kill with a stare,” Aurora murmured.

“Please. She can’t even kill when she’s turning into a giant wolf once a month.”

“She could be lulling you into a false sense of security. Maybe one day she's going to stalk into your bedroom late at night and snap your head off and eat your remains.”

Regina looked over in surprise, but tried not to let her alarm show, “You’ve given that some thought.”

Aurora leaned forward, resting her chin on her fist, “I always assumed that if anyone I knew was going to be murdered it’d be you.”

Regina hated to admit it, but she'd assumed the same thing.

After assuring Aurora she'd speak to Emma, and casting a quick spell to sour the large glass of milk Ruby was about to drink, she popped back to the hospital, where Frankenstein was elbow deep in the dead fairy's torso and looking very **happy** about that fact.

"Careful," she said, “you get too happy over that corpse and you'll have to change your pants Doctor."

Emma sighed and closed her eyes, "Gross."

"Come to marvel your work," Frankenstein asked cooly.

Regina inched close enough to be able to see the woman’s insides. So many organs she knew the feel of, and even the look from books. She’d never actually seen them though. They glistened in the cool light of the OR. In particular the heart. Pale, solid, with big fat veins.

Nothing like the ones she still had in boxes in a tomb.

“She’s still got her heart,” she noted. As if that was evidence enough of her innocence. “Besides, if I went and killed her you can be damn sure I wouldn't have left the body behind."

Emma rubbed at her temple with her thumb, the movement shifted her collar enough for Regina to see the locket around her neck and she promptly became interested in her fresh coffee.

"There a reason you think Regina did it," Emma asked. There was weariness in her voice—like when she dealt with her parents or something “too frickin’ fairy tale-like.”

Whale prodded something a lung and it made a graphically squelching noise. Regina accidentally made eye contact with David, who looked just as disgusted as she felt. 

"The victim drowned," Whale explained, "and I've found no signs of assault and no signs of a struggle on the body. There's no sign of drugs either."

"But that's not confirmed until a tox screen right," David asked. When everyone stared at him in surprise he rubbed the back of his head, "Henry and I watch Castle together."

It was Whale's turn to sigh, "As much as it pains me to say it, you're correct. However, tox screens are woefully inadequate when we consider the fact that she's a fairy."

"Was a fairy," Regina interjected, “in this world without her wand she's as human as the rest of us."

“But here’s the thing though: she had the wand,” Emma revealed. She jerked her chin in the direction of a metal tray, where the wand shimmered on top of a pile of the dead woman’s clothes. “It was wedged in her girdle.”

"My research into the physiology of magical creatures is woefully inadequate at this time," Whale said. Regina snorted. He ignored her. "But what little research I **have** done suggests that most toxins and drugs in the land would fail to work within the system of a fairy, human origins or no." 

Regina's magic coiled in irritation. Frankenstein was insinuating, pretty strongly, that he'd experimented on some poor fairy to learn that.

Emma's face was completely slack—any hint of her understand ingwhat he said hidden by a blank stare. "Is that fancy mad scientist speak for it had to be magic?"

"Yes."

"Then how about you get back to the living patients Doc. We'll take it from here."

"I haven't finished the—"

"We got it Whale," David stepped up behind him. "You've got other patients to see to."

He looked from one Charming to the other before nodding reluctantly. "Very well. I call you when the tox screen comes back."

 

####

Emma watched Whale pack up all of his scary looking autopsy tools, toss his bloody mad scientist gloves in a biohazard bin and leave, the samples for the tox screen in a bag tucked under his arm.

"I take it we're all on the same page," Regina drawled. She'd set her coffee cup down and was staring after Whale with an unnervingly steely look.

"He's been doing experiments,” David said.

"Could he have meant before the curse," Emma asked. She didn't think he had, but it was better to ask the other too then just assume the guy was vivisecting fairy nuns.

"Possibly," Regina murmured, her face screwed up in deep thought. "He and Rumpel—Gold were quite chummy back in the day. But it **sounded** like he was talking about fairies with human physiology, something that didn't exist until the Curse."

"So we might have just had the murderer autopsy his own victim?"

Regina shook her head, "I doubt it. While I'd take new samples to be tested just to be sure, I'm inclined to agree with the doctor as to the cause of death."

"Magic," David growled.

"Powerful magic—that he has no access to.”

Shit.

"And you still can’t…trace it or whatever?”

Regina held her hand out. It glowed—Emma's locket turning cold as a result. She wriggled in discomfort, but tried to stay focused on what Regina was doing.

The body glowed again too, more brightly than it had the night before in the pond. Emma could now see the magic ripple across the corpse as if it were tangible. The hair rose on the back of her neck and the locket went from being cold to being like a block of ice between her breasts.

Regina's hand trembled and David looked at Emma in alarm before tentatively moving forward. "Regina," he started.

She hissed and snatched her hand away like it'd been burned. The magic around the body turned to a fine mist that fell softly to the ground.

"Nothing. There's magic still masking the precise spells used. I can't see anything."

Emma thought about offering her own magic…whatever to help, but memories of the other times Regina had used it—memories of the ice water the blood in her veins had turned to—stopped her.

"Okay," she said instead. “So we’ve got someone with a lot of magic drowning fairies and we’ve got a mad scientist possibly vivisecting fairies.”

“We can’t be sure on that last one,” David said.

Regina crossed her arms and grumbled, “The man experimented on his own brother’s corpse. He’s capable of anything.” 

“Either way. I need to talk with the Mother Superior.”

David added, “And Gold. He’s about he only one as powerful as Regina now, **and** he knew Whale from before.”

“So which one do we speak to first,” asked Regina.

“I’ll chat with the Mother Superior. David you go pick up Whale, see what you can get out of him.” He nodded eagerly.

“And me?” Regina was all expectant looking—a far cry from the usually completely reluctant woman she knew. Her lips quirked up into a half smile, “You want me talking to Ru—Gold?”

“I wanted to talk to him myself,” Emma said, “I figured you could…”

Regina raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, there’s other magic users right? Besides Gold?”

“There is,” she said carefully, “But he’s the most likely suspect.”

“Right, but—“ Emma knew this next part wasn’t gonna go over well, “The thing is, you and Gold…you hate each other.”

“Yes?”

“So maybe you talking to him about a murder isn’t the best idea?”

It took a second longer than it should have for Emma’s words to sink in. Regina stared at her cooly and then she realized what she’d said and recoiled. “You think I can’t be objective?”

David snorted.

“Not helping,” Emma said sharply.

He held up his hands in surrender.

“I—I can be **very** objective Emma. I’m the **queen** of Objectivity!”

“Snow White,” she said simply.

Regina turned bright red, her mouth working for the right words before finally— “Oh screw you.” She rounded on a very amused David, “ **And** you.” Turning back to Emma with very angry, dark, and hungry eyes she snarled, “And as I’m no longer necessary I’m leaving. You know where to find me **Sheriff**.” She tapped the locket just beneath her blouse then grabbed her coffee and disappeared.

"Why do I feel like we just told her she couldn't sit with us at lunch," Emma asked.

"Don't worry about," David said, “according to your mother Regina's always been sensitive."

As if she'd heard what he said Regina popped back into the room. David yelped. 

"And I forgot to tell you that Aurora would like to help. So perhaps she can help **that** unobjective idiot interview Whale? She's an excellent interrogator." She peered at David like he was a slug.

Emma was speechless. Managing only an, “Uh—"

"Also before I forget," she waved her hand towards the body. Purple smoke descended over it, and when it disappeared the deceased was dressed in a neatly pressed habit with her hands crossed over her chest and her hair all regrown and styled into a bob. "Her family shouldn't have to see her splayed open like a science experiment."

"Thanks," Emma mumbled.

Regina disappeared again. 

"She's gonna backseat drive this whole case isn't she?”

David nodded. "You want to come with me and punch Whale? It'll make you feel better."

"Nah, I need to help the family make arrangements and talk to the nuns. But taking Aurora isn’t a bad idea.”

He nodded again and turned to leave.

"Oh, and try not to actually punch him when you talk to him,” she called after him.

"If he resists?"

"No police brutality."

The son of a bitch actually **pouted** , leaving Emma to wonder what the hell kind of world he'd lived in before Storybrooke.

 

####

Standing there while a couple of nuns and Aurora's moms huddled around a body was more emotionally trying that Emma had expected. They'd cried and remarked on how alive she looked.

"Like she's sleeping," Briar Rose had said.

 Then the two fairy godmothers and the one fairy mom had produced their wands and waved them over the body. Roots had sprung out from some invisbled seam beneath Merryweather's corpse and wrapped around, forming a stunning coffin that looked like the gnarled base of a tree. A bouquet of blue flowers had sprouted from the place where her head lay. The four women had all smiled sadly, before each one plucked a flower. Briar Rose plucked three more and offered one to Emma. She took it reluctantly and stuck it in the zipper of her jacket like a corsage.

Afterwards she took the long way back to the apartment. The autopsy hadn't been stinky as far as dead bodies went—with the flowers it had even smelled kind of nice, but in her haste to get out of the apartment without waking Henry that morning she'd blindly reached for, and grabbed, the wrong bra. It was the ruined one she'd worn in the Enchanted Forest and needed to throw away. The underwire was biting into her sides like a freaking torture device.

She would have just taken it off and shoved it under the car seat, but she figured going braless to interview some nuns was tacky.

Out of habit she took the long way from the hospital to the apartment. It was the route she'd used when ferrying Henry to and from to visit his mom and it took the car right along the bay. The docks were all empty and the bay itself filled with fishermen. She could see the mast of Hook's boat—one of the only ones still tied up. The asshole was probably dead to the world and she briefly considered driving down closer and running the sirens a few time just to annoy him.

But it would have annoyed the people dotted along the beach erecting tints and setting up long tables and chairs and building enormous bonfires.

The "annual" clambake was in two days. Annual being a loose term as it was, in fact, the first official town clam bake.

It had been Ruby’s idea, but she'd passed off the organization of it to Mary Margaret and Kathryn Nolan. While most of the town just assumed it was a celebration of the curse being broken and families being reunited, Ruby’s unspoken plan was to have someone she and David trusted watching Mary Margaret when they couldn’t. 

Most of the town didn’t know about her heart issues. Didn’t know that according to Regina her heart was in the hands of some mysterious queen in a far away land and there was almost zero chance of it being reunited with its owner. Zero chance of it being used against them either.

And Mary Margaret backed that claim up. She actually **agreed** with Regina. Insisted she didn’t feel any different. 

But everyone around of was still…concerned.

She was a lot more frigid than Emma had remembered her.

Her green eyes always seemed darker when she watched her. Even Henry, who had to be the most optimistic kid to ever live, was unsettled around her. "She needs a heart," he would say gently. "She can't love without it."

But she could. And she did! She smiled at David and would caress Emma's shoulder when she walked by her and she'd ruffle Henry's hair.

She was still Mary Margaret. Just…off a fraction. Emma probably wouldn't have even known if she hadn't seen David crush her heart in his hand or heard Regina's really bizarre and not so informative explanation.

She slowed the police cruiser down to watch Mary Margaret direct two of her dwarf friends wrestling with poles for a tent. She had a little clipboard clutched to her chest and was slicing one hand through the air. The wind off the water had turned her cheeks bright red. 

From far away she still looked normal.

From far away she still had a heart.

The underwire jabbed into Emma's side and she pressed down on the gas. It was better not to think about the mom she'd probably lost just when she'd found her. Like Regina's locket it was better out of sight. Out of mind.

 

####

Regina assumed it was Mulan coming down the steps into her cellar. She walked with a grace that no one else she knew possessed, and stepped lightly, effortlessly avoiding the two steps that groaned like an old man. She was also the only person awake at that hour that would dare step into Regina’s domain without invitation. Killian might have, but he was sleeping off the drink in his ship most likely.

"Thought you'd be helping with the murder investigation," Mulan said.

"Emma has me talking to the second-rate 'villains' to see what they know." 

"So you're sitting in your cellar because…?"

"Because," Regina grunted, "I want to make cider." She was standing at the cider press, twisting it around and around enjoying the graphic noise of a apple pulp being smashed beneath a wooden plate. "Winter's coming and all."

Mulan poked around the cellar. She'd never been down there. To Regina's knowledge no one had but her and Henry. It was where she'd spend the fall and winter making cider. Most with apples from her tree. After Henry had arrived she'd started purchasing apples in bulk from the market and making larger batches to donate for Miner’s Day.

The cider operation in her cellar had expanded from a small press and a few bottles, to something approaching an actual business. The cider aged in the oak barrels along the wall and she had even more enormous glass jugs for fermenting. To a layperson it looked terrifyingly science-like. Mulan approached one of the jugs and peered at the bulbous glass piece sticking out of the top.

"That's to control air intake for the yeast."

Mulan had no idea what she'd said but nodded like she did.

"I have a feeling I'll be going through quite a bit of cider this year with that alcoholic on the boat. Just wanted to get started on a new batch early.”

”So…you're helping Killian get loaded?"

"If you put it that way."

"And avoiding hunting for Merryweather's murderer while you're at it."

Regina stopped crushing apple pulp and put her hands on her hips. Her bad hand ached a little from the pressure put on it, and her fingers were clumsy and numb. "Now you're just being critical."

Mulan poked one of the bottles and raised her eyebrow at Regina. "I'm not the one sitting in my cellar avoiding my responsibilities."

"Avoiding—I ran this town for **twenty-eight** years! Every budget meeting, Miner's Day, school fundraiser—even the clam bakes were organized by **me**. If I want to make an excellent batch of cider instead of running errands for Emma Swan I'm fully entitled!"

"Clam bakes?"

Damn it.

"You're mad about the clam bake so you're wallowing down here?"

"No. I'm irritated about the clam bake. I'm down **here** because I'm an incredibly powerful sorceress who could be helping Emma find a murderer but instead she told me to talk to some people and maybe she'd call me later." The last part came out as an unbecoming sneer.

Mulan rested her thumbs on the buckle of her belt and **stared**. That awful stare she'd used on everyone back on the damn boat to get them to do what she wanted. It was a stare of **judgement** and for, reasons Regina never understood, when Mulan stared at her like that she had an urge to be better.

It had to be some form of magic she'd learned while training to be a military genius. 

"I sound like Snow White don't I?"

"If she sounds infantile."

She gave the cider press another turn, it resisted the entire way, the whole contraption whining in protest. She snarled and stepped away—throwing up her hands as she went.

"Very infantile," Mulan said.

“She said I couldn’t be objective. **Me**. Did she miss the part where I put aside my own feelings and killed to save the world?” The part where she'd killed someone she loved to get her son back and now had to run around with a terrible version of her that was a bossy know it all that didn't know **anything**?

“What couldn’t you be objective about?”

“That imp.” She and Killian were currently having a disagreement about that bastard. Killian wanted him murdered immediately. Punished for his considerable crimes.

Regina kept seeing the way he honest to God **smiled** at her mother and had insisted they hold off on plans for murder.

“You and Gold **do** have a history. You wouldn’t be my first choice to deal with him either.”

“Still—“

“Regina.” She **stared** again. “Someone murdered a person that Aurora cares about. We don’t get to wallow. We don’t have the luxury.”

Regina sighed.

Caring about others was **exhausting**.

“I have an idea of someone who might know something. Care to join me after I prep this batch?”

Mulan rolled the sleeves on her uniform. She was the only one of the 4-person department that ever wore the drab ensemble. Regina supposed it was because she got to wear a whole belt of equipment with it and it made her feel like she was back in armor.

“Two people will probably make this faster."

Regina gave her a tight smile.

Not just exhausting. Grueling. 

 

####

Emma was trying to pay attention to what the Mother Superior was saying. They were sitting in her office at the convent and sunlight was streaming through the wooden shades and onto the austure desk from which the former fairy governed her nuns. She had her hands settled in front of her on the desk, rolling her wand between her thumbs and forefingers.

“You think someone with magic did it,” she asked quite seriously.

Emma said yes, and explained, but she kept glancing out the window, where a little man in a blue jumpsuit and bright red hat was stooping to collect dog shit from beneath a tree. She guessed he was the groundskeeper and she wondered what he’d done to Regina in another land to get stuck on dog shit duty.

“Why,” the Mother Superior asked.

“I’m sorry—what?”

She squared her narrow shoulders and sat a little more primly, “Why do you think someone with **magic** killed Merryweather?”

“Uh…because she drowned in a pond and there was no sign of foul play?”

“She could have fallen.”

Emma raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I mean, sure. She could have. But Regina thinks someone used magic.”

“Regina? The Evil Queen.” 

Emma was surprised at the venom in the nun’s voice, and the way she’d said the epithet. Emma could hear the capital letters—could hear all the dark and nasty history of the title when the Mother Superior used it. Regina’s past stopped being abstract. Came into sharp focus.

She had to shake her head to clear dark thoughts from her head. “Former Evil Queen,” Emma amended. “She’s reformed.”

A tight smile and glistening eyes, “You are so very much your mother’s daughter. The hope you have is truly inspiring.” Emma bristled. “But it is not so easy to just **stop** your wicked ways. Not when you were born into. Shaped by it.”

“Maybe, but no offense Mother Superior, I spend time with the lady.”

“And you trust her.” The smile still stretched across the nun’s face.

“Yeah, I do.”

“As you trust her friends.”

Emma snorted, “What, so they’re evil too?”

“A pirate consumed by revenge, a warrior cast out from her own land, and…” It was the Mother Superior’s turn to seem really uncomfortable—like Aurora’s meer existence was unsightly. “The fairy girl.”

Emma remembered the story Regina or Aurora or someone had told her. About how Aurora’s moms were a queen and a fairy who gave up her wings to be with the woman she loved. Her fairy godmothers had been her mom’s sisters—or what passed for sisters with fairies. And Maleficient was supposedly a changeling that had grown up in Briar Rose’s court.

It hurt her brain thinking about it, but it clearly hurt Mother Superior more. She was **offended** by Aurora’s existence. Offended enough that she must have been pretty upset that they were all having their cozy dinner together.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where were you last night?”

The nun’s mouth dropped open in horror. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting Sheriff?”

Emma plastered on a charming smile. “No. I know you. My parents trust you,” she lied. “But there are other nuns—fairies here in the convent right? Maybe one who didn’t like how close Merryweather is to her god daughter?”

The Mother Superior stretched her hands out flat across the table before her. The tips of her fingers turned white as she pressed them into the wood. “There are many, but we take an oath. We don’t harm humans.”

“Merryweather was a fairy.”

“Once. She was human when she died. The oath applies. If one of us had…” she drew in a long breath, “It would be visible. A fairy can’t commit such a heinous act without it showing on their skin.”

“So it won’t be a problem if I speak to everyone. Get alibis?”

The Mother Superior’s smile was all at once fragile and knowing and angry. “No problem at all.”

 

####

The little lawn gnome was wandering through the freshly planted pansies below the windows of the convent. His thick boots sunk deep into the mulch and his hands were brown with dirt, the ends of his nails completely black.

It had taken her and Mulan an hour just the find him. He served as the groundskeeper for half the town and wandered from place to place, tilling the earth, spitting big gobs of phlegm in the grass and planting awful pansies instead of the wide variety of gorgeous plants he was **supposed** to tend.

As far as she could tell the pansies were a post curse affectation. Like Whale vivisecting fairies or Gold being polite to people.

She and Mulan had to slog their way up the hill from where Mulan had parked her cruiser. Mulan’s boots had smooth bottoms that slid on the wet grass and Regina’s heels kept digging into the dirt.

A little breathless at the top of the hill she put her hands on her hips and pointed to the spot before her with her chin. “Come here please.”

He grumbled, spat, and went back to planting pansies.

“Sir,” Mulan said officiously, and too politely for the former gnome to listen, “we need to speak with you.”

He pointed a fat little finger at Mulan, “You I’ll speak to,” he said in a soft voice. “ **She** can fester.”

Regina stalked closer, “I **could** fester, or I could turn you into a tree like that wife of yours.”

“You turned his wife into a tree?”

“No, I did,” he snarled, and then he waved hand rake in Mulan’s face. “And I can do the same to you if you don’t get her out of my sight.”

“If you turn her into a tree I’ll just turn her back and go kill a few of your woodland friends,” Regina sighed. “Like that fox. I could use a nice pelt.”

He swiped his hand rake at her, the three sharp prongs glittering as they slashed through the air. 

Regina step back, but continued to grin nastily. 

She didn’t **actually** plan to skin the fox, as the fox was currently a high school boy who had a good chance of going all district in long distance running. The man in front of her didn’t need to know that.

“Now that you to have threatened each other,” Mulan glanced at Regina without taking her eyes off the gnome, “Can we ask our questions?”

“I don’t know anything.” He spat again.

“You don’t even know what we’re going to ask.”

“It’s about that busty little fairy that croaked right?”

Regina watched him turn back to his flower bed. He squatted with a grunt.

“Yes,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I don’t know anything.”

“You were once the most powerful gnome in the Enchanted Forest. The very land whispered to you of everyone's secrets. You know **everything**.”

“Didn’t stop you from going to my brother for help when you cast your curse.”

Right. Paul. “On the bright side…you didn’t end up like him either.” He was still a ugly lawn gnome statue in her back yard. “Please,” she tried to smile polite, “tell us what you’ve heard.”

“No," he spat.

“Mulan I’ve tried the polite way. Do you mind if I try a productive way?”

Mulan shrugged, “As long as there isn’t any property damage.”

She turned back around and grinned savagely at the little man. His ruddy complexion turned as pale as his beard and he raised his hand rake in defense.

“Go to hell hag.”

She popped the knuckles on her good hand, “You first.”

 

####

Emma had her head ducked down and was watching the pavement as she went back to her car. Her brain was sorting through the information she’d gather and she was trying to figure out why every single nun (none had been lost to Whale's experiments), excluding the three at Aurora’s last night, had been at Granny’s.

The nuns didn’t eat out. Especially during the evening. It smacked of unnatural convenience that they **all** had the exact same alibi.

She was so wrapped up in puzzling out what the hell the fairies were up to that when the shadow passed over her head she just assumed it was a cloud.

Until is moaned like a guy being floated through the air like a god damned balloon.

When she steeled herself and looked up she did, in fact, see a little man being floated through the air. It was the gardener she’d seen earlier, minus his bright red hat.

 **That** was clutched in Mulan’s hands, and she was twisting it while watching Regina wave her hand and sent the guy into a loop a pilot would have been proud of.

“What the hell are you two doing!”

“Having a conversation,” Regina drawled.

“He wasn’t being helpful,” Mulan added.

“So you’re floating his butt through the air?”

Neither woman took their eyes off the man, who was cursing loudly and vividly. But both women still nodded, as one.

“Stop!”

“He deserves it,” Regina argued.

“What the hell has he done to deserve—“ Regina floated him directly towards Emma’s head and she had to duck to avoid the profanity spewing little man. “—This?”

Regina wagged her finger up and down and he floated higher. “He used to turn people he didn’t like into trees.”

“Not okay but—“

“He also ran the largest lumber mill in the enchanted forest.”

“Oh.” That **was** actually pretty heinous. Only— “I didn’t let people lynch you Regina, so I can’t let you torture this guy just because he was a jerk over there.”

“I’m not torturing him for that. I told you. He has information that I need.”

“No, he has information **I** need, and it isn’t legal to get it by floating him around like a Mary Poppins!”

Mulan winced and Emma had no idea why.

Then Regina swiped her hand upwards and the gardener disappeared into the morning sky.

Emma had to tilt her head all the way back to watch the little guy soar. “That is the opposite of what I asked,” she sighed.

“I’m sorry. Last night you told me to help with the investigation. This **morning** you tell me to limit it to questioning former acquaintances. Which I am currently doing.”

“Regina—“

“You have to make up your mind Emma. Do you want my help or not?”

“Of course!”

“Then let me do my job—“

“Not if it involves that,” she jabbed her finger up at the sky.

There was a sound like a tiny oncoming train, that Emma only belatedly realized was the man screaming as he plummeted to his death. But Regina waved her hand and he jerked to a stop about three inches above the ground.

“David,” Regina said cooly, “the sheriff has asked that I interview you in a less entertaining manner. But before I start that interview I’m going to pluck every single hair from your beard. With tweezers.”

David? The…gnome?

Emma called out Regina’s name again. 

Regina ignored her, “You can save yourself that considerable pain.” She flipped him up and floated him towards her, giving him enough height that they were eye level. “Tell me what you know.”

David, David the gnome, grew perfectly still. And Emma and her deputy and that all-powerful mayor grew silent. The only sound was the birds above and the distant cars on faraway roads and the wind in tree.

He closed his eyes. Resigned himself. “Just whispers.” 

“Of what,” Regina asked in a low voice.

He peered up through his eye lashes. “Tell me Regina, when’s the last time you went strolling down Gingerbread Lane?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This chapter took longer than expected to get out. On the bright side it is extra long?
> 
> Warning: Graphic discussion of the slaughtering of animals. The queasy are warned.

Emma didn't get home until late. Regina had sent David the gnome, a guy who’d apparently inspired a cartoon about a **very** different gnome, floating back up into the sky and she'd refused to bring him back down. "He'll come down on his own," she said before poofing away and avoiding responsibilities.

Mulan had helped Emma track the floating gnome around town, but she'd gotten bored after a while and said something about "patrol" before bailing. Leaving Emma driving at a snail's pace behind the guy and waiting for him to come down low enough that she could use a borrowed dog catcher's loupe to grab him. David the deputy and Aurora had both, suspiciously, not responded when she'd radio'd for back up. Like Mulan had gotten to them first and told them about Emma’s new impromptu mission.

After finally getting the guy back on solid ground he'd insisted he didn't want to press charges and the she had to insist that he didn't try and get revenge on his own instead. He’d promised, but her knack for seeing a lie wouldn’t let her believe him.

She'd stopped by Regina's to warn her an angry gnome would come looking for her, but found her gone and Hook, sans pants, sitting in her kitchen eating a sandwich. 

"No toaster oven on the Jolly Roger," he'd explained.

That hadn't explained the pants situation, but Emma's had been too irritated to ask.

She didn't get around to talking to Gold until the sun was nearly set. Then, after he assured her he was innocent she had to walk all the way over to the library to get Belle to corroborate his alibi, which she'd only done while blushing.

Probably because she was corroborating while Ruby stood at the check out desk thumbing through Laura K Hamilton paperbacks and scowling. The only person who liked Belle and Gold's relationship less was Cora.

When she finally made it home it was to a too damned busy apartment that was too damned small for three grown adults and a kid about four steps from puberty. Mary Margaret was sitting at the counter, her cheek resting in her hand and her other hand listlessly swirling wine in a glass. Henry had his wooden sword out and was jabbing and hiyaing up and down the staircase to the loft and David was at the stove setting something in a pan on fire.

She missed her stylish little apartment in Boston. It had been lonely and austere, but kids weren’t clanging, ladies weren’t drinking and stuff wasn’t on fire.

It was quiet.

She missed quiet.

"What's with him?"

"Your father told him they're going to the stable tomorrow so he can learn how to ride a horse. He's practicing.”

“With a sword?”

“Knights have to ride horses **and** fight with swords,” Henry shouted.

The kid had been hounding anyone who looked like they'd even **touched** a sword to teach him about it. All of Emma's very tastefully edited stories of the Enchanted Forest had done little to cool the kid's desire for dangerous adventure in far off lands devoid of toilet paper.

Mary Margaret took a sip of her wine and eyed Emma over the glass. “You’re home late.”  

“Remember that show David the Gnome?”

Her brow furrowed, “I remember the little guy who snitched on half the Enchanted Forest.”

Emma took off her jacket and launched it at the coat rack. It just barely made it, and the whole thing tipped into the wall before righting itself. “Probably the same one. Regina got mad and sent him floating over the city for four hours. Which **someone** would have known if they’d had their radio on.”

David didn’t turn around, but he sort of ducked while he busied himself putting out his fire and plating something blackened.

“Did you finally get him down,” Mary Margaret asked.

“With one of those dog catcher things. They say hi at the vet’s by the way.” She directed that comment towards David. His ears were pink.

“Did you find the murderer yet?” Henry had come down the stairs way too quietly and Emma leapt at his soft voice **right** behind her.

“Jesus!” Mary Margaret frowned. “I mean—nothing yet kid. Just a floating gnome and a helluva couple of alibis. Did you guys know **every** single nun was at Granny’s last night?”

All three long term Storybrooke residents were unimpressed. 

“The hamburgers are great,” David said.

“And it’s really roomy there,” Mary Margaret added.

“Everyone loves Granny’s,” Henry insisted in an eerily toneless voice.

Sure. Granny’s was great, and cheaper than most fast food places. It was just…weird they all went but the dead one and her sisters. And weird that no one seemed surprised. 

She settled into the stool beside Mary Margaret and took her half-done wine, finishing it off in two gulps. "So I'm the only one that finds it weird?"

All three of them shrugged. "The hamburgers are **really** great," Henry said—imitating his grandfather.

Emma chuckled and ruffled his hair, "I gotta get you out more."

Mary Margaret frowned again, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just—" All three of them look like she'd insulted their dog or something. It struck her that out of the whole damn town she was probably the most well travelled (if you didn't count magical lands usually only found in books). "I once had a hamburger down in New Mexico so good I dreamed about it years later. **Dreams** because of a hamburger. And Granny's is good, but there's only about one thing there I dream about."

Henry tilted his head, "What?"

"Ru—rhubarb pie. Granny's rhubarb pie is top notch."

David and Henry agreed but Mary Margaret scowled like she knew that wasn't the pie Emma dreamt of. She reached past her for the wine bottle and refilled the glass. 

Taking another big gulp of wine she looked over at Henry. The little guy had climbed up into the third stool and was thinking too deeply—doing that little grimace he must have learned from Regina.

"What's up," she asked.

"I should see more of the world."

David did something between a gasp and a snort and Mary Margaret tried to smile warmly like she was encouraging him but it just came off as frigid.

"Well," Emma tried not to look at the two of them, "We could go sometime. Where you thinking about?"

"China."

She was a big fan—though she didn’t think the kid knew she’d been there. “I was thinking something closer first. Maybe Boston?”

"I've already **been** to Boston."

“You went from the bus station to Emma’s,” Mary Margaret said. "You should see the entire city."

Emma wasn't going to point out that Mary Margaret had seen even less of Boston and wouldn't be going any time soon. Part of the curse still wrapped around the town, and anyone affected by it couldn't leave without losing their memories.

Sometimes when Mary Margaret or David were shooting her the maternal/paternal puppy dog eyes she thought about punting them over the city line just to have a break.

Knowing that Regina would approve and the rest of the town would be horrified was the only thing keeping her from doing it most nights.

"You could check out Harvard," David suggested. "That's in Boston right?"

"You sound like Regina—no we'll do the aquarium. Maybe catch some improv or something and then gorge on lobster rolls and oysters."

Mary Margaret tilted her head, her eyes placid and a little wounded, “You’re making it sound like something you’ll do this weekend or the next?”

Emma shrugged, "Why not? Nothing's stopping us." Besides the murder investigation. And everyone getting jealous of their road trips. And Regina. Emma was pretty sure taking a kid who wasn't technically **legally** her's across state lines without permission was illegal. "What do you say kid? Next month you and me and Boston for the weekend?"

"Overnight?" Henry's eyes bugged out.

"Why not? I've still got my apartment." That she needed to deal with. Sheriff's pay wasn't as lucrative as bail-bonds person pay and she was gonna have to get into her savings if she didn't get off her butt and find a subletter soon.

Mary Margaret, trying not to be Debbie Downer, but failing, asked, "What about Regina? If she finds out you're taking him—"

David set down plates in front of everyone. He'd cooked chicken breasts as big as his own hands on the skillet. He’d poured something that started life as Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom on top to hide the black bits. But Emma could still see a healthy stretch of char peaking through the sauce on hers.

Reaching for her fork she said, "I've got to go do an interview with her tomorrow. I'll just ask."

"She won't like that."

"I don't think she's gonna be mad about a weekend trip next month Mary Margaret. And if she's that worried she can tag along. Right kid?"

He grimaced like his grandmother and stabbed his chicken heartily. The rift that had formed after his mom had accidentally poisoned him hadn't been healed. Even though he'd brought her back to life and been by her bed almost every day of her coma.

Apparently it was a lot easier loving people when one of you was near death.

 

####

Henry and David were out the door the next morning while Emma was still wiping the sleep from her eyes and trying to crack her persistently uncrackable neck.

Mary Margaret was up too and wordlessly put a mug of coffee into Emma's hands when she slumped onto a stool in the kitchen.

"Long night?"

"Henry's a furnace and kicks in his sleep."

Mary Margaret winced in sympathy.

"He's pretty excited about the stable huh?"

"Seems that way. He's been begging your father to teach him since you and I were over There. This should be good for them. Bonding." Mary Margaret said it so hopefully.

"He wanted to ride a horse so bad why didn't he ask Regina?"

Mary Margaret wrapped both her hands around her own mug of coffee and brought it to her lips. "I don't know," she said between sips. "And I don't think David knows Regina can ride either."

"You never told him?"

"Never came up."

A lot of things never came up. As far as Emma could tell her "parents" were basically newlyweds. They'd been married less than a year when they had her and were still in that "love guides us through all problems" phase. Emma was familiar with that phase. Many an idiot new spouse had put up their life savings to bail someone out and then had to watch as the loved one ran and Emma had to hunt them down.

Mary Margaret and David struck her as slightly less naive (though that could have been because of her own dumb optimism). Yet a lot of stuff slipped in between the cracks. Neither of them actually **talked** to the other about Mary Margaret's missing heart.

Or Regina.

Or having Emma and Henry crowd their open floor plan loft and effectively ruin any chance of intimacy.

Which was another thing—

Emma had **no** plans to pry. Ever.

 **EVER**.

But she was pretty sure they hadn't done…stuff since the curse had broken. Both of them were extra crabby whenever Hook's bird mentioned sex or Mulan and Aurora walked by with their arms touching.

After showering and seeing Mary Margaret off for the final day of set up before the clam bake Emma made her way across town to Regina's place.

Some homes had changed since the Curse. People didn't maintain their lawns or prune their plants or rake the leaves that were starting to fall.

Regina wasn't one of those people. She'd been in a coma for a week and stuck in the hospital for something like six more and she still had the greenest lawn and the best looking trees and bush—

And Emma's mind went there.

She shuddered and parked her cruiser on the street in front.  The door opened wide as she clomped up the steps, but instead of Regina in her neat little pants suit or pencil skirt it was Hook, wearing pants again, but his shirt open to the navel, his hair in sticking up in every direction and his hook gone. The ornate sleeve of his shirt was pulled over the end of the residual limb. He leaned against the door and tried to look rakish.

"Ms. Swan, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

She'd gotten really good at ignoring his come ons. She didn't even have to glare this time. "Where's Regina?"

"Out."

"And you're hear because?"

"Hey hot mama!"

A flurry of feathers that should be plucked and stuffed in a pillow case landed on Hook's shoulder. That god damned bird. It tilted its head and seemed to **gaze** at her. Like it was human.

She resisted the urge to draw her gun and shoot it off his shoulder.

"Well," Hook said, "Aren't you going to say hello?" 

The bird nipped his ear and he grinned.

"No, but I might roast the thing for Thanksgiving if you're not careful. Where's Regina?"

He rubbed the bird's head, "Why is everyone always threatening to eat him? Were you lot not fed enough as children? Do you have no understanding of how tough and gamey parrot is?"

"Hook."

He chucked the bird under its beak with his knuckle. And talked to it like it was a baby, "I won't let them eat you."

"Hook!"

"You're short tempered," he observed.

"Sexually frustrated," the bird squawked.

"I swear to God, both of you—"

"Regina squeezed some orange juice before she left. Fancy a cup?" He didn't wait for her answer, just turned around and padded into the kitchen, his bare feet slapping loudly against the wood floor. His bird flew over Emma's head and out the door. Torn between wanting to chase it down and put it out of everyone's misery, and the need to find Regina so they could go talk to whoever the hell that gnome claimed lived on Gingerbread Lane Emma had to eventually settle on following Hook into the house and kicking the door shut behind her.

She noted the blankets pooled on the couch and the dirty boots and long coat lying on the floor.

“Late night,” she called ahead.

Hook was busy in the kitchen, using his one hand to pour juice and his other arm to hold the cup steady. Watching him she was reminded that the hook wasn’t a hand and he didn’t have magic to supplement the thing. In his undone shirt standing at the isle pouring juice he looked completely…average.

“Regina caught me eating all her good bread and prosciutto last night and forced me to help her make cider.” He pushed the glass of juice over with the end of his arm. She saw a peak of the scarred limb mostly hidden by his shirt sleeve. “Apparently I’m a greedy thief and I have an alcohol problem.”

“You’re giving pre-Curse Leroy a run for his money in one of those departments.”

“Not much else for a pirate to do in a town like this.”

“You could become a fisherman.”

“I’m one of the most infamous pirates to ever live. I do not **fish**.”

Emma tried the juice. It was tart and satisfyingly pulpy. Almost like biting into an orange. “Coast guard?”

“I hung up my white hat a long time ago and have no plans to put it back on.”

“I don’t know what to tell ya Hook. Unless you want to start stealing movies online there’s not a lot of pirating to do in Storybrooke. You’re gonna have to reevaluate your life I guess.”

He rolled his eyes, “God, you’re as bad as those three.” The  other Four Thieves. A name Emma was a 100% sure they’d given themselves to sound cool.

“Difference being they **care** what happens to you.”

He considered his orange juice and raised his shoulders a fraction in a half shrug. Emma could see the hint of a tattoo on his chest, masked by his shirt and swirls of chest hair. She wondered what kind of tattoo a real pirate out of a storybook had. Was it his dead girlfriend’s name? A picture of his ship?

He noticed her staring and raised an eyebrow, “See anything you like?”

“No,” she fired back without thinking. His amusement didn’t even waver. “Now where the hell’s Regina? We’re supposed to go talk to some cookie man or evil witch or something and I wanted to get it done sooner rather than later.”

“She had to run an errand. Told me to tell you to meet her at the stables.”

Emma’s heart thumped twice as fast briefly. “The…stables?”

He nodded and sipped his juice.

“Any reason—why—why the stables?”

“Maybe she wanted to take one of her hell beasts out for a ride. How should I know?”

“She didn’t say?”

“Oh yes, she went into avid detail because she and I discuss every minute detail of our lives and then braid each other’s hair.”

Emma finished the rest of her orange juice and pushed back from the counter. If she drove fast, with the sirens on, maybe she’d get to the stable before Regina, because if she got there afterwards she **really** didn’t want to see what would happen.

 

####

She didn’t beat Regina there. Instead she pulled in, gravel shooting out from beneath her tires and a billow of dust trailing her, just as Regina was getting out of her car.

The other woman crossed her arms and eyed Emma as she parked. “I don’t think the sheriff is supposed to speed that fast,” she remarked when Emma got out of her car.

“I had my sirens on most of the way.”

“That might make it worse.”

Regina was dressed a little more Enchanted Foresty than usual. Or maybe just horsewomany. She was wearing tight riding pants and knee high boots. Her blouse was one of her normal tailored mayor blouses, but the blazer was full on preppy horsewoman. 

She was just missing the crop. Emma felt poor just looking at her.

“Why are we here,” she asked—hopefully deflecting the conversation from her speeding, or David’s truck at the other end of the parking lot.

“Gingerbread Lane is an old unpaved logging road and Gauvin and Hwin need to be taken out for a ride. I thought we might kill two birds with one stone.” She looked over Emma’s shoulder, her face impassive, “Why is Charming’s truck here?”

“He…”

She raised an eyebrow.

Emma sighed, “He’s teaching Henry how to ride a horse.”

Instead of being angry or sad Regina just snorted. “Charming? Really?”

“Henry’s been asking apparently.”

“Of course. Why ask his mother when there’s a former prince around?” She wasn’t actually expecting an answer from Emma, and said to herself, “Apparently I failed at teaching him about the dangers of assuming based on gender.”

“Pretty sure that’s just society failing.”

Regina huffed in a way that indicated that, no, **Regina** was the one that failed. It was endearing. 

“So you’re not…planning on turning David into a toad or anything?”

Regina sighed, “Somehow I think Henry would be offended by me turning his grandfather into an amphibian. So I’ll just be resigned. For now.”

The qualifier didn’t completely ease Emma’s concern.

Regina walked back around to the trunk of her car and popped it open and Emma came closer to make sure she wasn’t pulling out a shotgun or something equally murderous.

She wasn’t.

“What’s with the saddle?”

“I had to go pick it up from Donkeyskin’s shop. I needed a new one.”

“You couldn’t just magic it?”

She eyed Emma before she reached in and pulled the saddle out, “Magic is no match for quality leather working. Besides,” she sniffed, “with the curse broken the town’s economy isn’t maintained by magic. She needed the work.”

That was true. The cannery was shuttered about a week after Emma “saved” the town.

Regina shoved the saddle into Emma’s chest and she had to scramble to grab it while Regina turned back around and started pulling other horse looking junk from the car. 

“She know your dusted her dad?”

“That’s why she gave me a 15% discount on the tack.”

“How gracious.”

“She’s grateful, not stupid.” She paused, “Or **as** stupid. The curse apparently added a few points to her IQ." Emma faintly remembered a story about Bluebeard’s daughter disguising herself to get into Regina’s palace, and then traipsing around her room in full on royal gowns.

"Lucky her."

Regina piled all the other horse junk on top of the saddle and Emma grunted and tried not to drop anything, spreading her legs a little to improve her balance. "Why am I carrying this?"

"Because you are here.”

Emma glared.

"And because I need to speak with the stable manager. Take that down to Gauvin's stall would you?"

Emma could have fought her on it—particularly as she felt like a pack mule, but Regina was already headed towards the attached office and she would have had to jog to catch up with her and throw all the leather good at her.

It seemed rude.

She wrestled with all leather. Something—a bridle? Reins?—she had no clue—dropped and she caught it with the toe of her boot. She had to squat and grab the metal part of it with her pinky and then shuffle towards the stable.

As she picked up speed she got a better handle on all the junk and by the time she was stepping into the stables and looking down a long corridor of stalls she was no longer in danger of dropping Regina's crap.

The stables hadn't seen a whole lot of use during the Curse and even maintained by magic they were a little run down from thirty years of disuse. Tired looking. All the white paint was dirty and cracked and only half the stalls had animals in them.

A sign tacked to a cork board offered riding lessons on the cheap. It looked new enough to be put up post-Curse. Probably put up by some prince looking for some extra cash.

Hopefully **not** the prince she lived with.

Or maybe it was a knight?

She was pretty sure the Enchanted Forest had had knights.

David was leaning against the door of one of the stalls closest to the entrance. A travel mug of coffee was dangling from his finger and must have been the reason he looked as chipper as he did.

"Thought you had a meeting," he said, not taking his eye off the inside of the stall.

"Meeting moved to here."

She balance the saddle on the stall door and looked in. Henry was standing on a stool brushing an ugly paint horse's coat and trying not to look self conscious.

"What are you guys up to?”

David pointed his mug at Henry. "Teaching him how to ride."

Emma raised an eyebrow but didn't ask the obvious question: How brushing a horse taught the kid anything.

Henry looked up from his mind-numbingly boring work and a big grin split his face. “Mom!” He dropped his brush, hopped off the stool and ran up to the door. It was still weird to hear him call her that. Felt kind of like someone walking across her grave.

But she smiled back. It would be shitty not to. “Hey kid.”

His small hand reached up to touch the supple leather of the saddle’s seat. His eyes were wide, “Is this for me?”

“No idea. Regina just had me bring it in.”

His face brightened further, “My mom’s here?” It was a lot different then when Emma had first shown up in town and he’d scowled at every mention of Regina. Since she was now the cool bad ass witch who defeated evil with giant rubble monsters he was thawing. The hurt hadn’t been erased. Just…eased.

“She’s talking to the stable manager. We’ve got to go talk to someone about that murder and she thought we should ride out there.”

“She’s not just poofing you,” David asked.

“Guess not.”

“Does my mom even know how to ride a horse?”

“Of course I do, and I probably know more about it then your **grandfather**.” Regina had arrived with the stubby stable manager in tow. Her lips were curled up into a half snarl that had Emma, David and Henry all wilting. She nodded at the stable manager, and the little round woman waddled quickly down the corridor with another saddle grasped in her meaty hands. 

Then Regina irritation seemed to reverse course. Her sneer softened into something uneasy but kind. “I used to ride quite often once upon a time.”

“Why’d you stop,” Henry asked.

“Queens don’t go riding bareback through the country side.”

“No instead they—“ Emma tapped David’s stomach with her elbow and he shut up.

Regina caught David’s retreat and Emma’s elbow. Her eyes sharply focused on the two of them even as the rest of her was directing a maternal smile at Henry. “If I’d known you wanted to learn I would have been happy to teach you.” There was no hint of chastisement in her voice, but a touch of the hurt that put crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes.

Henry missed it. “It’s okay. Gramps is teaching me.” 

“Ah.” She frowned, her dark eyes taking in Henry, his tennis shoes, his brush, and the pristine looking horse. “How exactly?” The hurt dissolved into haughty judgement and she pegged David with an annoyed glare, “You know teaching horseback riding actually requires sitting **astride** a horse?”

“I’m teaching him to respect the horse first.”

“And I supposed you’d teach him to drive by having him wash your car?”

“Yes.”

Regina’d been gearing up for a lecture, but David’s terse response stopped her dead. She looked surprised—but not really mad. “Oh,” she nodded, “I guess that makes sense.”

Emma was grateful she hadn’t had David teaching **her** how to drive as a kid. She preferred stealing cars to gently washing them with a giant sponge. And he definitely would have been the dad having her use shammies and doing two coats of wax.

“Perhaps when your grandfather is done teaching you the absolute basics we could go for a ride together?”

“Sure,” Henry said—a little wary. Was it always gonna be like that between him and his adoptive mom? Would she be asking him to come by for Christmas and he’d look nervous before agreeing? 

It had to suck knowing your kid didn’t trust you. Even if Regina didn’t seem offended by his tentativeness.

She was just smiling again. That warm and totally **genuine** one that made something in the pit of Emma fidget. “And maybe, if you stick with it, we could see about having a saddle made for you?”

“We don’t want to spoil him,” Emma murmured.

“A good saddle isn’t spoiling him. It’s making sure we have grandchildren one day.”

Emma had never seen her kid really blush or seen Regina sound quite like a **mom** until that moment. Henry’s face turned bright red and the mortification a kid could only achieve because of their parents being jerks blossomed on his face.

David coughed and ducked his head, his fist over his mouth to hide an amused little grin.

“Mom,” Henry gasped.

“Oh don’t be embarrassed. You’re with family here, and it’s something you **do** need to think of if you’re going to be riding regularly. Sterility in male riders is very real.”

Emma had heard something similar, but, “I thought that was just because of the jeans cowboys wear?”

“It also has to do with how a man rides and what kind of saddle he’s on.”

David nodded, “She has a point.”

“And **you** should probably ignore it,” Regina glanced at David, “or Henry will wind up with a very young aunt or uncle.”

Emma clapped her hands, “And we’re done with this conversation!” David and Henry were matching shades of red. She pulled all the saddle toward her with one hand and dragged Regina away by the bicep with the other. “We are now going to leave you to forget this conversation ever happened.”

Henry and David both glowed with the kind of gratitude that made Emma actually feel like the “Savior” she was always told she was.

 

####

The woman’s horsemanship had not improved.

Regina should have expected that. Almost three years for her had only been the span of an afternoon for Emma. She hadn’t had a chance to get lessons, or even just **sit** on a horse.

So she sat very rigidly on Hwin, her legs sticking out to stay clear of the mare’s flanks and the two ends of the reins clutched in one hand so she could cling to the horn of the saddle with the other. It was a very plain western saddle meant for long days spent horseback and working cattle—but it was significantly more forgiving to a rider than the lean and sparse saddle Regina had designed. It was also too big and Emma kept scooting back and forth to find a way to balance herself.

“Relax,” Regina called in a soothing tone. “You’re not gonna fall off.”

“Easy for you to say queen who mounts the world.”

She whipped her head around, “What?”

Emma tried to wave her off, slipped and grabbed the horn again. “Nothing. TV show humor. Get HBO.”

“Do I look like I’m made of money?”

Emma’s plaintive stare suggested that she did.

Tugging on her own reigns, Regina slowed down so she could ride beside Emma. The old logging road was had grown narrow from years of disuse, with gnarled branches of trees reached out to grab at their clothes, but it was still just wide enough for them to ride side by side. Sometimes they had to ride so close Regina’s knee would brush against Emma’s.

It was nice—until Emma would slow down or speed up to end the contact.

This time Regina reached out and put her hand on top of Emma’s. She ignored the daggers shot her way. Emma wasn’t a big toucher.

She couldn’t feel the warmth of Emma through her thin doeskin gloves, just the hard tendons in her hand as she continued to hold onto the saddle horn. “It isn’t easy to fall out of that saddle Emma, and Hwin isn’t going to buck or bolt.”

“No, she’s going to walk. Or trot. Or **canter**.”

“If you’re that nervous you can sit behind me. I’m better than you just holding that horn like a newborn.”

More daggers. Flirting with Emma Swan was something new—an experiment suggested by Aurora—and the subject of the experiment was **not** fond of it. “I’m fine on my own horse,” Emma said dryly.

“Well, then relax. My back is hurting just watching you.”

She did relax, just a little, and Regina let go, her fingers immediately missing the contact. She balled her hand into a fist and her gloves squeaked softly.

“I still don’t see why you couldn’t just poof us,” Emma grumbled.

“The horses needed a stretch.”

“Which they could have had **not** while we’re on police business. Magic would have been faster.”

“You could have used your sirens to get to the convent faster yesterday, but you didn’t. Why?”

“It’s an abuse of power.”

Regina stared.

“—What? Really?”

She raised her chin, enjoying Emma’s surprise. “Just because we **can** do something doesn’t mean we should.”

“This coming from the walking id.”

“I told you Emma, I’ve changed.”

Emma ignored her, even as the faintest of blushes colored her cheeks, “So who we talking to today? I’m assuming some kind of former cookie?”

“No.”

“Loaf of bread?”

“What—why would you even—no, a woman.”

Emma groaned, “In a gingerbread house?”

“The very same.”

“But I thought the mechanic’s kids killed her.”

“They burned her alive, which, as you well know, isn’t always enough to kill a witch.”

“What, she eat a peach like your mom?”

“No. She healed herself even as she burned.”

 

####

The house, thank Christ, was **not** made out of cookies and candy. It was a creepy cabin, the kind made out of the fat trunks of trees and with a big wobbly chimney jutting out from above rotten looking wooden shingles. A thin plume of smoke drifted out the top and somewhere far away a raven crowed.

It was hard not to feel a chill seeing the place, nestled in a cove of old growth forest that hid most of the sun’s bright light and made everything colder than the early part of fall should be.

“If she’s so bad why’d you bring her over?”

“Some monsters shouldn’t be left to their own devices.”

“Incestuous serial killers get stranded, but cannibalistic kid snatchers snag a ticket?”

“Most of her power was lost when those children shoved her in her own oven. What’s left of her is dangerous for what she **knows** , not what she can do,” Regina paused, an obnoxious knowing grin on her lips, “Though I wouldn’t get too close to her kitchen.”

“Cute.”

She shrugged. 

Both horses **shivered** the closer they got to the cabin. Like they could feel the evil emanating from within. Regina’s stallion pawed at the muddy road and shook his head in protest. Regina had to dig in with her heels and manipulate the four reins. She gritted her teeth silently as she pressed her horse forward.

The one Emma was on was more placid, but she reached a point where she wouldn’t go further and Emma wasn’t about to try and force it. With her luck the horse would bolt and the two of them would end up in New Hampshire by sundown.

“Let me talk,” Regina commanded quietly, “and whatever you do, don’t agree to anything.” She dismounted smoothly and swiftly enough that Emma felt jealous. The chain of Regina’s locket flashed on her neck as she moved and Emma’s locket burned briefly.

As she made her own, considerably less graceful, dismount the front door of the cabin creaked open. The hinges screeched and birds in trees overhead fluttered away, casting the surrounding forest in silence.

A woman emerged. Her whole body was covered in wet looking scars and she was hunched over, as if the burned skin had permanently contorted her. One withered hands held a shawl closed around her shoulders and her other hand, unmarred by burns, was extended before her. Blue blank eyes roved sightlessly. The unblemished hand rose shakily to her mouth. She licked her lips and smiled. “I…smell…a witch.”

“Then perhaps you should invest in deodorant dear.”

Regina’s snark didn’t phase the other woman. She hobbled forward, limping heavily. “Not just a witch—“ She sniffed the air, her head bobbing dramatically. “A girl. An orphan.”

Not true. Emma…Emma had parents now. Sure they were the same age and one was missing an eye and the other was missing her heart, but they were parents who **loved** her. Parents who cared. Parents who didn’t make her pay rent.

Involuntarily her hand touched her stomach as if too soothe the empty pit that formed at the word orphan. It was habit—the word always clanged painfully around her insides. 

The witch was still grinning, and even though she was clearly blind she seemed to be looking directly at Emma. She stepped back in alarm, her shoulder bumping against her horse’s nose.

Then dark hair filled her vision as Regina stepped between her and the witch. “ **She** is not your concern,” she said archly.

The witch tried to look over Regina’s shoulder, craning her neck as far as her misshapen body would allow. “She smells delicious.”

“And she’s about twenty years too old for you. You like them young remember?”

“I can make an exception.”

“I didn’t bring her for you.”

Those milky eyes wandered over the general area of Regina’s head. “Then why?”

“She’s the sheriff, and we have questions for you.”

“Your…granddaughter. How lovely.”

Regina glared—which didn’t do much good. “If you want to start this conversation the wrong way you’re doing a wonderful job Cecily.”

“You’ve come for me haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Emma said, “But—“

“You can’t arrest me. What happened in the other lands remains in the other lands.”

Her story was one of the few from Henry’s book that Emma bothered to remember. A creepy witch eating orphaned kids? It was gonna stick in her head. And at that moment, watching the woman just standing there with bleeding gums leaving her teeth yellowed  and long and sharp looking. She wanted to arrest her. Or kill her. To do **something**. She could hear those teeth chewing on flesh. 

“I’ve been good here,” the witch protested. “Just suckling pigs.”

Something behind the house squealed and Emma remembered the name slapped on all the pork at the grocery store. She was going to be sick. “You’re where they get the meat for the grocery store?”

The witch’s smile grew. Her gums had receded leaving each tooth looking longer than it should. “Just the young bits.”

“As soon as it hits puberty she won’t touch it.”

Emma was going to be **really** sick. 

The witch waved to a path that led behind her cabin, “Would you care to see?”

Regina sighed, “No, we’d care for answers Cecily. Stop trying to distract us.”

Cecily (Emma thought the name wasn’t nearly German and evil enough sounding) ignored Regina, and hobbled along the path. Regina buried her hands in her jacket pockets and followed. Emma joined her and fought the urge to draw her gun and use it right then. The witch turned around briefly, like she could see Emma’s thoughts.

“The trick to succulent meat is tenderness.”

Emma kept seeing fat little children in an oven with apples stuck in their mouths. She shuddered. Regina brushed past her, following the other witch closely, and again putting herself between them.

“I produce the most tender meat you’ve ever tasted. You can cut it with your thumb.” She wagged her thumb in illustration.

Coming around the corner of the house Emma was slammed with the smell of animal. It was as bad as the feedlots she’d driven by as she made way through the Texas panhandle on her way between Arizona and Tallahassee. The stench was unmistakable. Hundreds of animals pressed into a small space. Shit and blood and the mere press of bodies producing a unique perfume that could make the unprepared retch.

Regina produced a scarf from her pocket and held it to her nose. Emma just tried to hold her breath.

The barn they stepped into was poorly lit, the only light coming from sunlight streaming through boards. Full grown pigs rutted about in muck in large pens and piglets were all pressed close together in stalls—so close they couldn’t move.

A ploy to fatten them up.

“How are my pretties today,” Cecily cooed.

She flipped a switch near the door and the barn was bathed in stark green yellow white light. Emma squinted.

“Cecily.” Regina’s voice was muffled by the scarf in front of her face. 

“Hold on, I need to feed them. I have to prepare the fattest today.”

“The grocery stores are still buying from you,” Emma asked.

“The people of Storybrooke have developed a taste for my meat.”

Regina actually looked ashamed.

“Snow White herself is coming by for piglets this evening.” Cecily reached into one of the stalls and loving stroked the ears of a small pig. “They’ll roast them on the spit tomorrow.”

Emma tried to reconciled the 4th grade teacher who had been her friend with the heartless princess that would do business with a cannibal to make a **clam** **bake** special.

“Naturally she goes and turns a simple clam bake into a pig roast,” Regina sighed, “but I don’t care about that right now, we’re here about Merryweather.” 

 “She’s dead.” Cecily smiled, but whether it was because she found an appealing piglet or because of Merryweather’s fate Emma didn’t know.

Emma rolled her eyes.

“You know more than that,” Regina insisted. “I seem to recall you eating a few of her sisters.”

“They were freshly hatched and I caught them fair and square.”

Emma was going to need to disinfect her entire **body** when she got home. “You **ate** fairies?”

She smacked her lips. “The newborn ones are nearly as sweet as children.”

Regina rolled her eyes like it was old news, “And Merryweather and her sisters never forgave you.”

“All the more reason **they’d** tried to kill **me** , not the other way around.” She turned towards Emma again, taking a deep breath.  “You smell almost as sweet as they did.”

Emma stepped back. Her locket chilling burning with cold against her skin and warring with the her nausea for the most unpleasant feeling.

Regina jammed her scarf back into her pocket and stalked forward, “The gnome told me you know something about her murder. Now stop wasting my time and start talking or I’ll fire up your stove and shove you into it.”

She was blind, hunched, and could barely walk, but Cecily hobbled right into Regina’s personal space, peering up despite being completely blind. “Always quick with empty threats Regina.”

She glared down at the witch. “I burned you once,” she sneered.

“But I hear you’ve changed. What would our succulent smelling sheriff think if she saw you torturing me?”

Regina loomed over her, her face only a few inches from Cecily’s. She spoke clearly, enunciating each word, “Ask the gnome.”

A muscle in the witch’s face quivered.

The room suddenly turned quiet. The pigs turned lethargic in their pens. The stench of the barn seemed to…shift. The space became warmer and the stench turned pleasant. Like something roasting. 

No. 

There was spice.

Warm and toasty, like Thanksgiving or Christmas.

Buttery.

Ginger.

The whole barn was turning into gingersnaps, the pig shit into chocolate, the straw into spun sugar. The pigs stood immobile. The stark white fluorescent lights overhead flickered and became cozy flames. Icing oozed down the walls. The hard packed dirt floor turned soft and spongy like gingerbread.

Emma cried out in alarm. 

Regina crossed her arms, perfectly at ease on the shifting floor. But Emma had to scramble. She reached for the wall and yanked her hand away as icing dripped onto her fingers.

This was freaking— “Stop it,” she demanded.

“This place is looking a little underdone,” Regina said and then flipping **fire** sprouted up around her feet, scorching the ground and sending up black gouts of smoke that smelled like burned bread.

“You’re the one that’ll roast Regina.” 

 

####

The gun going off put an end to the brewing battle. A single bullet hole was smoking in the spot exactly between Regina and Cecily’s feet.

Emma looked very official in the moment. Like a cop on television, her badge glimmering on her waist and her gun held in both hands before her, her eyes steely as she glared over the end of the barrel. 

“That’s enough,” she growled. “The candy land magic bullshit ends now or Cora gets two more cellmates.”

“You think you can stop either of us,” Cecily actually asked.

Emma’s magic. Raw and ineffable flowed out of her, buffeting them both. “I can try.”

It was the first time **this** Emma had tapped into her power in Storybrooke, and it exploded out almost in a visible wave that Emma seemed to be completely unaware of. She had no idea how powerful she was. Cecily blanched in horror, her thin frame crumpling in the face of the onslaught. Regina kept standing—the locket scorching between her breasts and the magic moving in and out and around her.

She called Emma’s name—sounding breathless even to herself.

Cecily’s baked goods horror show subsided and seconds later Emma turned off the faucet to her own power. She blinked—as if she’d surprised herself and looked sheepishly to Regina.

“So,” Regina panted, directing her question to Cecily, “Now will you talk?”

“Her power…”

“I know,” she glanced at Emma again, “Even if she doesn’t. And that’s one of the reasons we need to know about Merryweather. We’ve already got Emma here walking around with a nuclear power plant inside of her. We don’t need someone else running around murdering fairies.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Then why’d the gnome send us to you?”

“He wanted you dead.”

“Then he wouldn’t have sent me to you.”

Cecily shifted her shoulders slightly, accepting that fact. “You know my gift Regina.” She hobbled back over to the stalls and once more systematically poking and prodding every piglet within reach. “I see what others can’t. Do you know why?”

“I grew up in the Enchanted Forest. I’m aware of the Blind Witches dear. Didn’t Rumpel kill your great grandmother?”

“Great-great grandmother. She saw the future and he stole that gift from her.”

“The way he tells it she gave it to him.”

Emma had lowered her gun and was looking from one witch to the other in confusion. “I’m lost.”

“The Blind Witches see what others cannot,” Regina explained. “Some saw through disguises and others through lies. Some saw the future. Some saw the past. Cecily here sees—“

“I see intent.”  

It had always made it difficult to circumvent her. You could never **plan** when dealing with Cecily—as Regina and Maleficent had both learned the hard way.

And as too many children had as well.

More than one child Regina had sent into Cecily’s house had died because of it. They’d sneak in and planning to kill her and claim the satchel but would be roasted and eaten instead. It had forced Regina to find younger and younger and more wholesome children for the task. And more impulsive too.

Emma squinted, laboring over that reveal. “So you don’t know what I look like, but if I intend to punch you…”

“She can see it. And what does this have to do with Merryweather? Did you see someone planning to murder her?”

“Worse.” She grasped a pig by its hind legs and drew it from its pen. The screech was ungodly. Emma turned green with nausea. “I saw a war.”

 

####

War. Big deal. Emma wanted to see war she could watch the news. It was a damn sight better than watching Cecily throw a piglet to the ground and bind its squirming legs.

Regina took Cecily’s words more seriously. She was still in that fugue state of hers when her mind was working faster than anyone else’s. 

“Where,” Regina asked, “Who’s planning it?”

The blind witch smiled, enjoying the fine film of panic coating Regina’s words. “I might tell you. For a price.” She tugged a knot into place on the pig’s back legs and picked it up again. It squealed and writhed in her surprisingly stable hand.

“You can tell us and not go to jail,” Emma groused. 

“And my crime? This isn’t the Enchanted Forest Sheriff. You can’t just lock us away because you don’t like our power.”

“How about for eating kids? That a good enough reason.”

She pulled the pig to the far end of the barn and into a smaller room with white tile walls and floors. “Then I suppose you’ll take Regina too.” Emma and Regina followed her. “How many did she murder—“

“Name the price,” Regina interrupted. She was still in her pensive place. That mayor at town meetings, or the witch intrigued by some new magic. 

She stood in the door between that white room and the barn where Emma stood. Emma stepped closer to Regina, lowering her voice, “I thought we weren’t making deals.”

“ **You’re** not making deals because you can’t tell the difference between an ogre and a giant.” Regina didn’t take her eyes off the witch, “ **I** know what I’m getting into. Name your price Cecily.”

Cecily selected a knife from a magnet on the wall. “I want to leave.”

“Emma broke the curse, I have no control over what’s left.”

“No, but Rumpelstiltskin is already plotting his own way out, he has for generations. Learn how he plans to do it and share.”

“Done.”

No talk about how maybe letting a serial killer lose on the non-magic population of the world was a bad idea. Or plan to actually **get** help from Gold. Cecily asked and Regina promptly answered.

She placed the squirming pig on a slab in the middle of the room, and in one swift, familiar motion, slid her knife through the piglet’s neck. It twitched and blood, brighter than any Emma had seen, spilled across the slab. S

Regina took a step into the room. “You’ll have your way out. Now who did you see?”

Cecily hung the now limp carcass on a hook. Blood dripped on the tile and started to turn tacky on the knife, forgotten on the slab. It covered the witch’s hands and she seemed to marvel at the sensation.

“I saw the war itself. **Bleeding** into this land from all the others. Trickling over on the backs of your victims. Magic,” she held up a hand and fire flared in it, burning away the pig’s blood, “and its creators,” in her other hand the blood formed a globe of liquid that hovered just above her palm, “want to war over **this** world—the last bastion of its kind.”

“And Merryweather?”

“She intended to stop it.”

 

####

Emma was coming out of a dream…or a nightmare. She staggered back into the natural light dimmed by the surrounding forest and gaped at it all. She could smell tree sap and freshly turned earth and hear birds over the muffled squeals of the pigs the Blind Witch was butchering. It was the real world. One that made sense.

The barn was something else. Something as bad as the Enchanted Forest. Disjointed and colored all wrong.

Regina followed her out. Her hand brushed Emma’s shoulder, “Are you okay?”

She shrugged her off. “Fine.” She turned to face Regina, and she kept her eyes only on her, letting the barn itself dissolved into the background, “Except for the part where this had nothing to do with the murder.”

Regina raised an eyebrow, “You don’t think motive is important?”

“Of course it is. But that,” she pointed at the bar, “that’s—war!? We’re in the middle of Maine where our son is learning to ride horses and we’re all stuck going to a clam bake tomorrow. War isn’t an option.”

“It’s rarely a choice for the ones not waging it.”

“Right. Exactly. You said Storybrooke is cut off from the other lands. That you’re the **only** one who can travel back and forth.”

“I am.” 

“So how’s this war supposed to work Regina? Are **you** going to war?”

“No.”

“Then what’s going on?”

She shook her head, “I don’t know. All I’ve heard are—“

“Are what?”

“Rumors. When we travelled there were rumors, and my mother warned me—“

“Cora knows?”

“The other Cora.”

Emma had to walk away. She took long strides back around the cabin towards the horses and away from Regina talking about another Cora. 

“Emma—“

“No. No, enough. I’m not—we made it back from the Enchanted Forest—alive! And that’s enough okay? I don’t need wars and factions and whole other timelines!”

“You ask—“

“Enough!” 

Emma shouting struck Regina dumb.

The silence of the forest pervaded their conversation and even the squeals of pigs and chirps of birds seemed to disappear.

It was just Emma and Regina. Magic and all the insanity of it and normalcy. Facing off. Until…

Regina looked… **pained**. “Denying it won’t make any of it go away.”

“It’s working for Mary Margaret and David.” It was a cheap comment and Emma knew it. Her eyes were wet—with frustration for sure—and she wiped at them.

Regina tried to console her with a weak smile, but it came off like a frown. “Merryweather was murdered because she knew about a war I’ve only heard whispers of. Whether it can come to Storybrooke or not is irrelevant.” It was an olive branch. Regina partitioning all the crazy into little easier to swallow bites. “Whoever murdered her believed. That was enough.”

“Her sisters didn’t know anything. I asked the Mother Superior and—“

Regina stepped close again. Her voice more gentle than it had any right to be. Like she wasn’t talking to Emma, but someone she actually cared about. “She may be part of this.”

Which meant only one, really, really bad conclusion. “We’re not just dealing with murder. It’s conspiracy.”

“Glad you figured that out.” David the former gnome and current city employed groundskeeper, stood between them and the horses, his short arms crossed over his large belly and his bearded chin jutting out in challenge.

Emma asked the obvious question, “Where the hell did you come from?”

He sniffed, “I burrowed.”

The shift from empathetic Regina to wicked queen was so fast Emma got emotional whiplash. She stepped in between Emma and David and grinned savagely. “Come for another go troll?”

“I’m a **gnome**.”

“Not in this land.”

His cheeks turned as red as his hat. “I came for revenge.”

“And I said no revenge,” Emma shouted over Regina’s shoulder.

The gnome and Regina both made her feel five and actually rolled their eyes, **in unison**. 

“So what? You dig your way out here,” Regina pantomimed a dog digging a hole, “and just **demand** you vengeance?”

“My original plan was to turn you into a tree. That blind bitch in there hates you as much as I do. She wouldn’t tell a soul and in this forest,” he surveyed the surrounding trees, “it’d be **years** before they found you.”

“Quaint little plan for murder. How were you going to do that? The sheriff’s standing right here.”

“She wasn’t supposed to be.” His lower lip stuck out in a pout. “You couldn’t have stayed at your desk eating donuts?”

“Nope.”

He shrugged, “So they’ll find her body on the edge of town in a few days and you’ll have disappeared. That story will write itself.”

He was a confident little fucker.

Regina laughed, “Of course. **You** will murder the **Savior**.”

“Thanks,” Emma muttered.

Regina crossed her arms defiantly, “But that still leaves me. How do you expect to do it? Your magic can’t even affect the pansies in this world.”

He held up an acorn, “With this.”

Regina’s amused and regal smirk quickly turned into a frown. A kind of worried frown that made Emma’s fingers twitch. Was she allowed to pull a gun on a former gnome wielding an acorn? He grinned devilishly. 

“I folded quite a bit of magic into this. Even borrowed some from old friends.”

“For that to work you’d need power—“

“From dozens of sorcerers, wizards and magic creatures.” He held it up to the sunlight and inspected it proudly. “I’ve only been working on it for the last twelve hours, but enough people were clamoring to help put you down that it should be potent enough.”

Emma wanted to ask for what, because it had to be pretty bad if Regina was eying a tiny nut nervously and her two traitorous horses were giving the stand off a wide berth.

But the bastard little gnome threw the acorn and Regina raised her hands to—magic it or something—and Emma was an idiot. She reached out and **caught** the little fucker. Snatching the nut out of midair with reflexes honed by dodging old drunks’ punches.

The acorn chucker and Regina both stared at her with equal measures of surprise—only rooted in very different emotions. David seemed delighted that she’d caught it, and confused, and maybe scared.

Regina just seemed horrified.

“What did you do!” 

Also furious.

Emma wasn’t sure **what** she’d done. Evil acorns had been thrown and she’d caught them. She looked down at her hand, it was still balled into a fist and as much as she wanted to drop the acorn her fingers wouldn’t move.

The gnome tried to walk away and Regina, without taking her eyes off Emma, lashed out. Vines and branches screamed out of the trees and wrapped around him, again and again until he was in a cocoon of greenery. It bobbed overhead, and the two horses both looked up at it curiously.

Regina kept staring. She yanked her doeskin glove off her hand with her teeth and grabbed Emma’s fist. The bandages she still had on her hand tickled Emma’s knuckle as Regina’s fingers tried to pry Emma’s fist open.

The cut from Gold’s knife had been deep, and her fingers were still clumsy. When David was properly bound she yanked her other glove off and tried to use both her hands.

“Are you insane?”

Emma tried a weak explanation, “It was an acorn?”

“From David the Gnome! Master of Forests! Builder of Trees! He turned his **wife** into a tree.”

Emma thought she ran up a mountain and turned herself into a tree as a metaphor for death or something. “To be fair, David the Gnome is a lot friendlier on TV.”

“He actually outlined his plan for murder while we stood here.” 

“He’s one of the town drunks and spent yesterday floating around town like a balloon. Excuse me for not taking his threats seriously.” 

Regina grabbed Emma by the wrist and stuck her balled up fist in her face. “And now? Serious enough for you?”

Why yes. Yes it was.

“Why does my skin look like bark?”

“Because you caught an acorn and are turning into a tree.”

One of the horses whinnied. It sounded like a laugh. Emma scowled. 

Regina snapped her fingers, “Focus Emma.”

“I am!” She looked down and watched the bark spread. Little twigs with little leaves sprouted from her knuckles. More of her turned rigid. “There’s an easy fix for this right?”

“If he’d tried to do it with just his regular magic yes. But the whole point of the acorn is—“

“Yeah?”

“It’s a curse.”

“Isn’t that your expertise?” 

She tried to sound a lot more hopeful than she was feeling. She was losing sensation in all her extremities. The spreading bark, maybe owing to some weird gnome sense of propriety, spread over her clothes rather than under them.

So she was gonna be a tree, but she wouldn’t be naked.

Jesus Christ.

Regina prodded the bark with her fingers. “I don’t know. I—I’m used to sleeping curses and ones that ruin the lives of my enemies.”

“Being a tree qualifies as life ruined Regina.”

“I know,” she snapped, “but technically not in the same way.”

“Well, yea for technicalities. Have fun taking Henry to visit his mom the mighty oak.”

“I think you’re,” she winced, “an apple tree.”

“If I die I want my remains turned into a bat and the gnome beat to death with it.”

“Not a problem,” Regina promised grimly.

“Okay,” Emma tried to stretch and make herself taller, hoping it would give her more time. “Let’s look at options. If I become a tree you know where I am and can research and fix it possibly.”

Regina weighed that, “Maybe,” she ran a hand through her hair, mussing it up, “but maybe not. Gnome magic is about becoming one with the land. It tends to be permanent.”

“Tends. Not always? So you get with Gold or the Mother Superior or even that creepy bastard Whale and you guys can—“

“Quiet.” Regina held up her hand for silence and Emma would have reeled back but she couldn’t move much more than her neck anymore.

Regina chewed her lip. She was breathing loudly through her nose and glaring intently—really raking her eyes over the tree that used to be the rest of Emma.

God. She was gonna end up as wood chips in the smoker at Granny’s wasn’t she?

Regina suddenly set her mouth into a firm line and narrowed her eyes before inhaling through here nose, “I have an idea.”

“You have an idea?”

“I do.”

“Great.”

“It might not work. You’re not—“ she winced again, “it isn’t ideal, but I can try.”

The bark had spread to her neck. “Okay. What are you trying?” 

Regina reached out—a hand on either side of Emma’s face.

Her eyes flew from one hand to the other and back to Regina’s face. “Regina?”

“Shut up.” She was staring at Emma. Really **staring**. Like she was trying to convince herself of something. She took another deep breath, this time through her mouth. Her tongue darted out and wet her lips. Her hands trembled.

“Regina—now’s the time…”

“I know.”

Then her finger tips brushed lightly against Emma’s skin before moving into her hair. Her palms pressed against Emma’s jaws and her thumbs grazed her cheeks. She stepped close enough that her knee must of have brushed against the trunk of the tree that used to be Emma’s thigh.

She whispered, “What are you doing?”

“Hopefully saving your life,” Regina murmured. Her breath briefly warmed Emma’s lips. Then she pressed her own to them.

It was the third kiss. 

Not as hungry as the first.

Not as kind as the second.

This kiss was gentle and safe and scared and unfamiliar warmth blossomed inside of Emma, spreading from where their lips met through her veins to her center and out to her fingers and toes. A timid tongue—how could Regina ever even be timid—caressed her lower lip and the warmth kept spreading. Emma’s eyes drifted closed, because it just seemed natural and iridescent light shined behind them. Her own lips parted.

Someone sighed softly into an open mouth.

And the acorn fell from Emma’s hand, but she didn’t notice, because her hand was on Regina’s hip and it felt

It felt true.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think most chapters will be as long as this one or the last one. At least I hope so. And a friendly reminder that I am terrible at FF.net. Ao3 and Tumblr are both better avenues for questions and concerns.

The hand that fit perfectly on her waist rose to her chest and pushed. They parted, Emma staggering back and Regina trying not to follow.

She forgot how wonderful kissing felt.

How wonderful kissing **her** felt.

They were both panting—Emma as surprised as Regina felt. Their breathing was the breeze through the trees. 

Louder. 

Regina’s locket was pleasantly warm—a source of satisfaction against her breastbone. She could see the matching chain of Emma’s locket. It was just below a pulse point that Regina knew from experience would throb beneath her mouth.

Emma ran her tongue across her lips and glared. “What the hell was that?”

“Magic.” The purest kind. Something Regina thought she’d never be able to do. Her heart was black, her soul cursed. She was evil.

The cut from Rumpel’s blade itched.

“That how you do **all** your spells Regina?”

Emma was pissed, and scared, and still breathing hard. But she had to know what that kiss was, she’d already been apart of one True Love’s Kiss. As Regina had learned herself, it wasn’t something one could forget. She’d been gray all over and barely conscious and could still remember the way Henry’s love had moved through her.

Pure.

The implications of what Regina had just done sent all the blood to her head, forming a dull roar between her ears. 

True Love’s Kiss.

She’s saved someone with a purity of love.

Emma was still panting and her whole body was taunt and one eyebrow was perched waiting for her response.

Regina had to answer. Had to say anything but that truth that had her heart racing and Emma poised to run. “Of course not,” she managed a smug grin, “there’s usually not so much tongue from the recipient.”

Emma turned as red as her jacket.

Regina lashed out out of habit, “I don’t know why **you’re** blushing. I’m the one that had my tonsils invaded.”

Emma was incredulous. “ **You** kissed **me**!”

“To save your life. Not—“ She waved her hand up and down, motioning at all of Emma, “To get to some ‘base’ of yours.”

“It’s first base, and no one out of high school uses that metaphor, and—“ she wagged her finger, “you’re trying to distract me!”

“Am I?”

Emma took a step towards her. Close enough that Regina could grab her and pull her close. “Why’d you kiss me?”

Because she was supposed to be the before and the Emma Regina loved was the after and she couldn’t have one if the other was a tree. 

But really she could never have that one. That Emma was gone and this one looked like her and sometimes sounded like her and, God did she kiss like her. Enough to make something inside of Regina hurt a little less— 

“Because I’ve been madly in love with you since the moment you blundered into my life—why do you think?! To break a curse.”

Emma took a deep breath, steeling herself for another tact, “Okay, **how**?”

“It was an experiment,” to see if True Love’s Kiss worked when they weren’t **really** the person one loved. “And it worked. The mechanics of it all are beyond your rudimentary understanding, I assure you.”

She stared Emma down, daring her to ask for elaboration. Emma wouldn’t. Elaboration meant talking about the other Storybrooke and the woman Regina had loved and Emma, like her parents, was **very** fond of sticking her head in the sand and denying truths.

It just wasn’t as irritating coming from her instead of Snow White.

Emma said Regina’s name warningly. Haphazardly asking for the truth. With a mere look Regina dared her to press the matter. Because she’d tell her everything—force her to understand—all Emma had to do was ask.

A muscle in Emma’s jaw flexed. “Right. Of course.” She rolled her head and her necked pop. “I guess,” she rubbed the back of her neck, “I guess I should say thanks?” 

And just like that the kiss was dropped. Swept under the rug with the other Storybrooke, and the locket, and everything on the tip of Regina’s tongue that was begging to flow out.

“It’d be nice. What if it had failed and we’d both ended up trees?”

“Would it have been one tree or two?” She was actually curious.

“I’ve no idea.” She glanced up at the cocoon overhead. “I suppose we can always ask the jackass who cast the spell.” 

Emma stepped closer, almost close enough that they could have touched if either had moved a fraction. She looked up over Regina. “The muffled yelling means he’s still alive right?”

Regina sighed, “Yes. For now.” She held her hand up like she was reaching for an apple of a tree and squeezed. The cocoon grew smaller and the man inside screamed.

She sounded exasperated, “Regina…”

“He **did** just try to kill at least one of us, and I am absolutely positive no one would miss him.”

“He’s going to jail—or the hospital. Whichever can hold him and keep him from treeing people.”

“Hospital.”

“Hospital then. **Alive**.”

“Even Snow would have had him killed,” Regina argued.

“Maybe, but having seen that world I’d like to **not** put its laws and customs into practice here. So he goes to magic person jail.”

“And if he won’t change after a time out? You can’t just leave him.” She couldn’t keep herself from glowering, “Locking someone up for eternity is as bad as the chopping block.”

Confusion flitted across Emma’s face—a measure of curiosity too, but she didn’t pry. “He’s not Cora,” she said instead, “we can just shove him over the city line and walk away.”

It was a ruthlessly efficient idea. 

Regina approved. 

A thought struck her and her lips quirked upwards, “If we deal with too many criminals that way the surrounding towns may start to get crowded.”

“Then I’ll drive them to Boston and leave them at a shelter.”

Regina raised an eyebrow.

Emma shrugged, “My coping method lately is dreaming about shoving people over the line.” Her eyes flickered to Regina, “At least the ones it’ll work on.”

They were still standing close enough that Regina had to resist the urge to just reach up and brush a lock of hair behind Emma’s ear. “And the rest of us?”

Her gaze was even, with none of the fear that had been leaking in before David had attacked. But soft too. Tender in another life. “When I figure it out you’ll be the first to know.”

 

####

By the time they made it back to the stables, cocooned gnome in tow, David and Henry were gone. Regina poofed the cocoon into the back of Emma’s cruiser and used the horses as an excuse of getting out of helping. 

“The horses need to be brushed down. I’d leave it to the stable manager, but she’s an idiot,” she’d said. 

“That’s a lame excuse Regina.”

“Enjoy imprisoning him. And remind the fairies he can’t have plants in his room.”

It all left Emma with the unenviable task of dealing with the cocoon herself.

A reluctant Mulan agreed to meet her at the hospital, and when she arrived, her cargo emitting muffled shouts and rocking back and forth on the seat, she found her sitting on the back of the other cruiser, drinking a coffee and chatting with Aurora.

Aurora must have finally read the memo about attempting to look professional, because she was wearing her badge for once. It was on a chain, dangling from her neck. Everything else about her still screamed too thoughtful and fashionable. She was wearing leggings and an oversized flannel shirt cinched tight with a wide belt. And she didn’t have a gun on. Instead Aurora may have been the only deputy in the whole country that carried a bow and arrows.

Having them both there meant lots of instances where Emma was out of the loop on conversations. But at least out of all the obnoxious paired off couples in town the two of them were the least irritating. It was the way Aurora could say something that would earn a shy smile from Mulan and the way Aurora looked at Mulan when she thought the other woman wasn’t looking.

They had an easy rapport, and maybe it was because Mulan wasn’t from the Enchanted Forest, but she didn’t harp on good and evil and true love as much as everyone else. Aurora happily followed suit. 

It definitely had nothing to do with their dry appraisal of the town—that was too Regina-like for comfort.

Emma slid out of her cruiser and hitched her belt. “Two deputies for the price of one? You lose a bet Aurora?”

“I wanted to see the gnome.”

Emma waved to the back seat. “Regina trussed him up with half the forest. Not much to see until we take some hedge trimmers to him.”

Aurora peeked inside and seemed impressed. “I like the weave she did. Very sturdy.”

“Your obsession with textiles is a little insane.”

She didn’t argue with Emma’s observation. She poked the cocoon and sipped her coffee. “Oh,” she asked—changing the subject, “did David tell you about the doctor?”

He hadn’t mentioned Whale since Emma had sent him after him yesterday, and after finding out none of the living fairy nuns were missing she’d kind of forgotten their suspicions of Whale vivisecting them. 

“Should he have?”

“We’ve started surveillance on him.”

Mulan perked up. “How?”

“Webcams.”

In town six weeks and she was on her way to being Storybrooke’s Big Brother. “That’s not legal Aurora. You have to have a warrant.”

Aurora scoffed, “I know that. My mother was Judge Andersen’s fairy godmother before she turned in her wings.”

“Is he the one that trims his hedges naked?”

Mulan shuddered, “Unfortunately.”

Aurora continued, “He signed a warrant last night and I set up all the webcams this morning.“

Emma yanked the back door of her cruiser open, “Fantastic—and disturbing. Maybe tell me about your Orwellian plot when we’re not dealing with a suspect?”

Aurora huffed.

“Where’s Regina,” Mulan asked—too observant to be legal.

“She stayed back at the stables. You want to grab the other end of him?”

Mulan stared. 

“You know you two are competing for worst deputy right? Policing the town isn’t just about the jobs you **want** to do.”

Mulan sighed and came around, catching the end of the cocoon before it dropped to the ground. She was kind of freakishly strong and could have carried it on her own, but she let Emma take some of the weight. When they were out of Aurora’s earshot she leaned over the cocoon and said, “I was staring because you’ve got something on your face.”

Emma tried to rub at her face with her shoulder. “What? What’s on there?”

A whisper of a smile graced her deputy’s lips. “Looks like lipstick Sheriff.”

Emma dropped her half of the gnome on her foot. The pain was actually better than the mortification.

 

####

After brushing both horses down and fondly watch them eat oats Regina went to Granny’s with the vain hope that she’d run into her son out for a post-horse riding cocoa with his grandfather. The elementary school had had a teacher in-service (that Mary Margaret had notably skipped out on) and the streets were unusually saturated with children.

Granny’s was a respite. Regina supposed it was owing to the fact that it was owned by werewolves. Children were terrified that Granny and Red would eat them as soon as they came in. Too many stupid adults were too. The place likely survived only on the support of the Charmings and their friends.

And Rumpelstiltskin.

He was sitting at the counter idly spinning a coffee cup by the handle and waiting for his meal. And he was alone.

“This is the first time in a month I’ve seen you without a woman on your arm,” she noted.

“I notice your missing a few members of your entourage too. Pirate sleeping off the drink? Or are the other two—”

“—The other two are probably mired in sapphic liaisons.” She waved her hand dismissively and took a seat one stool down.

He brought his cup to his lips and smiled before taking a sip, “Jealous?”

Of two people she didn’t hate being happy? Positively. Rumpel was talking about them both being women though.

“Do I smell a whiff of homophobia? I’m surprised. What would your little ultra-liberal girlfriend think?” She glanced at Red, who was hovering at the door to the kitchen waiting for an order. “What would **her** girlfriend think?”

Rumpel followed her gaze and Regina got to enjoy the way his lip twitched as he tried not to snarl.

She leaned in closer—he smelled of aftershave and moldy paper. “And she’s not even the only one stepping out on True Love dear. I know all about you and my mother. I hear Belle does too.”

He spun around on his seat, “You told her?”

“And come between True Love?” She feigned horror.

“Who?”

“A good, reformed, **honest** man would just ask her themselves.”

A hint of that brogue of his brushed his voice, “I’m asking you.”

Red chose the moment to return to the counter. She wordlessly set a mug before Regina and filled it with coffee. Too high for Regina to add milk or cream. She smiled frigidly in the ensuing silence before declaring, “You two want to snark take it outside.”

That she actually **warned** them surprised Regina and Rumpel both, and they shared that surprise with one another.

Rumpel leaned over the counter. “You telling us what to do dearie?”

“It’s not very wise,” Regina added.

Red motioned to the diner around them with her chin, “This place was rebuilt by the fairies and it comes with their protection. So as long as you’re in here? House rules.”

“They weren’t the only ones to help,” Rumpel reminded her.

“Maybe, but I’m willing to bet taking on a convent of fairy nuns would be a bit much, even for the Dark One.”

Rumpel sat up straight, taking in the challenge and calling dark power to him. “I don’t like being **challenged**.”

“Problem?” Snow White, the former awful little miscreant bandit of the Enchanted Forest, had entered the diner so quietly Regina jumped. She chose to assume her interruption startled Rumpel and Red as well.

The magic around Rumpel quickly dissipated. Mary Margaret’s interruption working, and effectively snapping him out of his ire. “I was just leaving,” he announced. He glared at Red before pushing his coffee mug towards the edge of the counter with his finger tips and limping out.

“He didn’t even wait for his sandwich,” Red complained. Granny was standing at the door to the kitchen waving a brown sack at her. “You two don’t kill each other either,” she told them. She grabbed the sack from Granny and chased Rumpel out.

“What was that about,” Snow asked.

“If you needed to know someone would tell you. What are you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be down on the beach avoiding the school, your family and virtually all other responsibilities?”

Sniping at Snow always did make her feel better. And she smiled not so sweetly for added pleasure.

Snow raised one darkened eyebrow, “Aren’t you supposed to be following your son and my daughter around with a hangdog expression?”

Bitch.

Red returned, saw Regina’s irritation and Snow’s smugness and steered herself back towards the kitchen. “No baiting evil queens on the premises Mary Margaret,” she warned as she breezed by.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Snow took a seat beside Regina and reached over the counter to grab a bottled water. “We’re just catching up.”

“The only thing I hope you catch is chlamydia,” Regina sniped. It wasn’t her best work, but Snow smirking and not crying while lecturing someone about goodness was unnerving. 

“Funny, I’ve been too busy catching all those **looks** you give my daughter.” She unscrewed the lid on her water and took a long sip.

“I don’t give your daughter **looks**.”

“It’s ironic that you murder a man and then become enamored with his granddaughter.”

“For a 4th grade elementary school teacher your grasp of the concept of irony is woefully lacking Snow.”

“Mary Margaret, please.”

“You actually **want** me to call you that?”

“You picked the name out for me Regina, it would be impolite not to show it off.” Her tone was so biting. Without a heart Mary Margaret made no pathetic attempt to be polite. The awful creature she truly was was there for everyone to see. Cutting, clever, and as nasty as the cut on Regina’s hand.

“Fine, **Mary Margaret** ,” she savored the name, “you want a better idea of irony? It’s me finally getting around to liking you only when you don’t have a heart.” She tapped her own chest, “Imagine how much time and energy we could have saved if I’d just ripped yours out forty years ago?”

That worked. Mary Margaret blanched and Regina reveled in her victory, sipping her coffee and trying not to squirm with delight on her stool.

And now for the pièce de résistance, “Tell me, does your husband like this new Snow? Or is he finding you a little,” she glanced at Snow’s water and leached all the heat out of it, “frigid?”

Snow gasped and Regina grinned. Ruby returned to take their orders. Regina ordered cold cuts on rye. Snow declared she wasn’t hungry.

 

####

Emma went more than twenty-four hours without thinking about Regina and the magic kiss that wasn’t just regular magic. Arguing with Aurora about surveillance on Whale, getting the nuns to build a magic proof cell for David the gnome, and getting kicked by a sleeping Henry in the bed they shared occupied a lot of that time.

There was also more interviews with innocent nuns and the Mother Superior, the darning of her uniform so she’d look respectable at the clam bake, and a whole hour lecturing her son, Mulan, David, and a sober looking Hook on the reasons why they couldn’t use the department’s supply of ammunitions for a homemade fireworks show. They’d rigged all ten shotguns to fire at once and were collecting all the rest of the gunpowder into a coffee jar when she found them. 

That was for a cannon salute from the Jolly Roger.

“Hook and Henry I can almost expect it from, they’re ten year old boys, **you** two are sheriff’s deputies.”

“A good celebration needs fireworks,” Mulan said. Hook nodded.

“I was just here to make sure Henry didn’t end up with a hook for a hand too,” David claimed. Pathetically.

“I’m **eleven** ,” Henry insisted.

By the time she’d made them dismantled their death on a stick rig and locked the gunpowder away in the evidence locker the rest of the town had gathered on the beach for the clam bake/giant ass impromptu festival. There was a band and a dance floor made out of old driftwood, christmas lights were strung from posts and tents, and huge bonfires dotted the sand. Most, but not all, of the town was there. 

Including her. 

They gave her a wide berth and Emma caught more than a few angry glares, but Regina was there, sitting on a log, her legs crossed and her elbows perched on her knee and listening to Henry tell some elaborate story that involved a lot of hand gestures. 

She looked different. At ease. She was wearing **jeans** , and a puffy maroon vest over a tailored white oxford to fight the chill off the water. She still had expensive looking dark stoned earrings in her ears, and though her makeup was more casual than usual it was perfect as always. 

She was just sort of softer than she pictured Regina in her head. And maternal looking in that Junior League way. She could have been the same cold woman just dressed down. It was the way she was listening to Henry’s story that made her truly different. The kid kind of rambled and got a little boring, but Regina was listening with the intensity only a mom could have.

A mom that cared. 

It took Emma a full thirty-seconds to realize the funny feeling she got watching Henry and Regina was her own stupid heart jackhammering in her chest.

It was definitely jealousy and definitely not longing and certainly nothing to do with memories of soft lips. She was just jealous of how easily the Evil Queen could shift into the role of soccer mom. Regina made it look effortless, while Emma was stuck in the smoke path from a bonfire, all alone and in a uniform with an awful polyester blend shirt chafing against the inside of her arms.

At least the rest of the party was all pissed that Regina was there and unconcerned with their feelings. Former Evil Queen still trumped every other villain in town. And sheriffs too.

Current, all alone, sheriffs. 

Mary Margaret was at one of the larger bonfires with David’s arms wrapped awkwardly around her. They were trying to stand close but neither actually wanted it, and when she spied Emma standing around like an idiot she said something to her husband, slipped out of the loop of his arms and trudged over the sand towards her.

Emma looked for a direction to go that would have gotten her away from Mary Margaret, but she was at the outskirts of the party, and her only choices were obviously running or heading towards Mary Margaret or Regina.

So she zipped up the front of her department issued sheriff’s jacket and waited.

“You’re not going to join the festivities,” Mary Margaret asked.

“I’m on duty.”

“So are the others. And they’re having fun.” Mulan was with Hook doing a falconry show for some kids, except they were using Hook’s brightly colored parrot instead of a falcon, Aurora was in deep conversation with Belle and Ruby, and David had returned to one of the tables of food to fill his plate up again.

By Emma’s count is was his third trip. The only people making more trips were a former walrus, the giant someone had found shrunk down in Cora’s handbag, an ex-Lost Boy and Regina.

“How can she put that much food away,” she asked.

Mary Margaret followed Emma’s line of sight and frowned. Regina had left her perch on the driftwood and was at one of the buffets piling high her plate with lobster, pork, clams and enough corn on the cob to feed half the party. Henry was standing next to her and looking non-plussed by his mother’s plate.

“If I put that much food away the buttons on my jeans would take someone’s eye out.”

Mary Margaret shrugged, “Regina’s always eaten like that.”

“She uses magic doesn’t she?”

“Maybe,” she peered at Emma, “why do you care?”

She clasped Mary Margaret’s shoulder in a gesture that would have been weird even before they were daughter and mother. “You did an amazing job with this clam bake.”

“Emma,” she warned, tilting her head disapprovingly. “What’s going on with you and Regina?”

“The same thing that’s **always** gone on between us. She irritates me. I irritate her. We meet on Sundays to fight over Henry.”

“Is she behaving herself with this murder investigation?”

“She hasn’t poisoned anyone or turned them into rats.”

Mary Margaret crossed her arms and said sagely, “That’s her behaving herself,” she bit her lip, worrying it briefly before saying, “You know…if she says anything—“

“Like what?”

She sighed, her dark brows furrowing as she tried to say whatever it was in the most tactful way she was capable of, “Regina is…devious.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, “I’m aware. She tried to kill me with a turnover.”

“I know, but, she has these friends now and she seems…different—but she’s done that in the past Emma. She makes you comfortable when really she’s plotting your murder. I mean, she spent **years** pretending to be my stepmother.”

“But didn’t you say you sort of knew back then? That she hated you I mean.”

“Only at the very beginning—and the very end. In the middle she acted…happy. Like she wanted to be there.”

“Then she tried to have you murdered.”

“After having her husband, your grandfather, killed.”

“Yeah, but here’s the thing, that was before she was a mom. She’s too busy worrying about Henry liking her now to be plotting to kill one of us.”

Emma didn’t think that through before she said it—didn’t consider how offensive it **could** be. Between Regina, the book, and Mary Margaret’s usual distrust of Regina she’d always kind of assumed that there was no love lost. Mary Margaret and her were only stuck together now because of Henry (and maybe Emma).

But Mary Margaret was stricken by Emma’s words, as hurt as she could be with no heart. The absence of it had had her acting like she was on powerful mood-stabilizers. There were rarely any highs or lows—just a frustrating base line lack of emotion. 

Being hurt like that…

It was new.

She tried to apologize, but after saying Mary Margaret’s name nothing else came out. What the hell was she **supposed** to say?

Mary Margaret attempted to mask the hurt, but she was only halfway successful. Tears made her eyes bright and her nose was red. “No,” she tried to smile and it looked maudlin, “I understand. I was never…I was never enough for her. But he is.”

She was looking at Henry. He and Regina had returned to their piece of driftwood and were eating and laughing and looking **happy** still.

Emma couldn’t think of anything to say to make it better and slipped past Mary Margaret and back towards the bonfire. Away from her son and his other mother, and away from her own mother. She walked quickly—her boots digging into the loose sand, which meant she couldn’t be sure if she imagined it, or if, when she turned away, Mary Margaret softly said, “And you are too.”

She hoped it was in her head. She’d never been enough before, and she didn’t know how to be enough now.

 

####

Henry was so focused on his own huge second helping of food that he didn’t notice Regina’s slipping focus. She watched Emma walk away from Snow. Both women seemed upset—with Emma looking more worried and Snow more miserable. They’d been too far away for her to catch what their conversation had been about, but she’d noticed the few glances cast her and Henry’s way.

Snow’s lost heart—and her family’s knowledge of it—were bending them more than Regina would have expected.

Maybe enough to break. She snapped a piece of pork skin in half and popped one half into her mouth. The fat dissolved quickly, leaving something gristly and satisfyingly meaty tasting for her to chew on. 

“I think there’s hair on my pork skin,” Henry complained. He was holding up a shard of it to the distant bonfire light and squinting at its surface.

“Just brush it off.”

“Mom,” he looked pain.

“What do you want me to do?”

He stared.

“I’m not using magic to Nair your meal. Eat it.”

He mumbled something.

“Excuse me?”

Still sullen he shook his head, “Nothing.”

Balancing her plate on her thighs Regina pried meat out of a lobster claw. It had been cooked too long and stuck to the insides. “How are you liking the party?”

He shrugged.

“Okay, what about horseback riding yesterday? Did you learn much?”

“David let me sit on the horse for five minutes at the end.”

“Just sit?”

“We walked a little. Did you know horses fart?”

“They’re a great deal like humans in that respect.”

Connections were made in Henry’s head and his hairy pork skin was forgotten for a moment. “I hope Leroy’s butt doesn’t look like that when he farts.”

“Don’t be disgusting. Eat your dinner.”

Chastised Henry returned to his meal…for perhaps half a second. “Last night Grams told me about how you saved her with a horse once. Was that before you tried to kill her?”

It was the tilt of Henry’s head, showing he was legitimately curious, that kept Regina from getting upset. There was a note of bitterness too—but when discussing her once hidden past with Henry that would always be there. 

Another Henry’s anger flashed in her mind. Reminding her, in the end, it wasn’t what she’d done in the Enchanted Forest that hurt Henry, but that she’d lied to him about it.

“It was. Before she met your grandmother she was just a naive princess, her horse bolted and I got her away safely.”

He accepted her version of events with a nod. “She said you used to have horse jumping competitions at the palace. And that you’d always win.”

“It was steeplechasing to be specific. And yes, I was very good so I usually won.”

“Emma thinks you cheated.”

“Emma **would**. She’s about as talented as her mother on a horse.”

Henry must have remembered seeing them off from the stables yesterday, because he accidentally smiled. Which made Regina smile. Which made him frown. So she frowned too.

And they went back to eating.

Time, she had to remind herself. Henry needed time. He’d had only a few months to come to terms with everything. Another Henry had had **years**.

“I like this,” she said. 

Henry was still sour. He yanked a clam from its shell and dipped it into the cup of butter on the log between them.

“Just the two of us,” she continued. “I’ve missed it.”

He threw the empty shell out towards the bay and began working another clam from its shell. Emma would have told her to be quiet and give the kid some space.

“I know you’re upset with me. About the curse and—“

“Poisoning me?”

She winced and forged ahead—quickly skirting **that** problem, “I miss you Henry. And…” Deep breath. “Not like I would have before the Curse.”

His eyes widened in surprise and he quickly tried to put the sour frown of his back in place. But she’d seen the surprise. He didn’t know what she’d seen in another world, and he didn’t know that his plan, forged just a year ago (for him), had worked. The Curse was broken and if he wanted her, he had a **whole** mother.

“You know I was different before the Curse?”

He didn’t say anything but he had to know. Another Henry had told her so.

“And now I’m like them.” The people who were laughing and eating. Sinbad was chasing Pongo around a bonfire and Mulan and Aurora were standing close together and trying not to touch even as their fingers twitched. “So now…I really miss you.”

Henry had never been very good with emotion. His hugs could crush a person’s ribs and he could talk about True Love until he was blue in the face, but when it came to the two of them with no death or outrage in-between he was stiff.

Scared, she realized.

And a child thrust into the emotional minefield of adults. He sat on the log like a lump—confused and quiet and concerned enough to verge on neurotic. She gently took his plate from him and brushed her hand through his hair. It was getting long. Emma would need to take him to get it cut.

“Go enjoy the party Henry. Forget I said anything.”

 

####

Killian found her a little later, full, as sullen as her son had been and far too thoughtful for a town-wide party full of people who hated her.

“This is the single saddest thing I’ve seen in my life,” he declared, “and I’ve wandered your dreamscape.”

“My son still hates me.”

“But, he’s alive,” he said cheerfully.

She tried to glare but Killian had lifted both of his eyebrows in a hopeful expression. So she looked away to hide her own small smile.

“And the boy’s also eleven, and just learning his evil mother really cares about him and isn’t just having him around town as insurance. Give him time.”

“And suddenly you’re the expert on child rearing?”

“Just little boys.”

They stared at each other.

“That came out wrong didn’t it?”

She nodded. “Say that in front of Charming and you’ll wind up in jail.”

“If he didn’t arrest me for making remarks about a threesome with him and his wife he’s not going to arrest for that.”

The horrific image seared itself into her brain in a vibrant tableau of skin and gasps. She shuddered.

“Now stop sulking and get up and have a dance with me.”

“No.”

He held his hook out in front of her, “Come on your majesty. It’s impolite to reject a man.”

“What about a woman? Snap of my fingers and—“

“You’ll probably find me more attractive. Just make sure I have big breasts.”  He wagged his hook again, “Now come on. This whole town keeps staring at us like we’re zoo animals. I mean to give them a proper show.”

“If its to irritate the town you should have just said so.” She grabbed his hook and let him pull her up. The metal was cool against her fingers and the tip of it dug against her bandage.

He dragged her across the beach with his mouth set in a firm line and his eyebrows knitted together in an officious glower. When their feet hit the dance floor he snapped around, put his hand on her waist very formally and raised on eyebrow expectantly.

They danced.

The band was made up of woodsman and hunters. Folksy salt of the earth people armed with fiddles and guitars and tall basses. The music was something very Appalachian, but with a vein of the formalness of the Enchanted Forest.

Good music for a lazy two step—which was one of exactly three dances Regina knew.

She heard them pause briefly before getting back to playing and Killian grinned. “Stunned them into silence.”

“I’m the one that cursed them and now I’m dancing at the party celebrating the end of the Curse.” They moved gracefully across the dance floor. “It’s a little gauche.”

“It’s completely gauche. Up for a spin.”

“Just don’t tear my arm off with that thing.”

He pulled his arm up for the spin and Regina did most of the work, and around them people stared. They were furious.

It was wonderful.

 

####

The crowd gathering at the dance floor drew Emma in. She assumed some fairytale Fred Astaire was showing off, but the floor was crowded with couples doing a Texas two step or something.

How the hell did they even know that dance?

How the hell did Regina and **Hook** know that dance? They were one of the couples, moving gracefully across the floor, periodically twirling one another. Regina’s face was a mask, but Hook was smugly grinning and sometimes when they’d spin she’d see the ghost of a smile on Regina’s face.

Watching it it felt like a stone dropped into her stomach.

A hand brushed Emma’s and she startled, looking down in alarm. David had come up besides her and was taking her hand, pulling her onto the dance floor. “Come on,” he grunted.

“What? Why the hell—“

They bumped into another couple and both apologized. On the other side of the dance floor Mary Margaret and Henry were watching Regina dance—Mary Margaret’s fingers pressed into Henry’s shoulder. David spoke softly, “The Evil Queen is dancing at a party celebrating the demise of the her Curse. Someone’s going to kill her if we don’t ease the tension.”

“And we do that with our bad dancing?”

He raised an eyebrow, “There are a lot of things we’re bad at Emma, but dancing—“ he spun her and pulled her close, sliding his hand into place on her back and gently lifting her other hand to just above shoulder level, “is not one of them.”

 

####

“Who knew Swan could dance?”

Regina did. Another Emma in a skinny black suit had guided her surely across a dance floor. They’d flirted and uttered truths and later that night they’d—she swallowed.

“Stop gaping,” she snapped. “It’s ruining your timing.”

“I’m allowed to be in awe,” Killian protested, “that family is the least coordinated group of heroes I’ve ever seen. Do they just save all the grace for when there’s an impromptu dance?”

“And for dodging fireballs.”

“Naturally.”

Emma and her father weren’t doing anything fancy. All they were doing was dancing, and not stepping on each other’s toes. It shouldn’t have been as impressive as it was, but everyone was watching them, and then trying to watch Regina and Killian. Their heads all flitting from side to side like they were viewing a tennis match. If Regina had cared she would have worried for their necks. All that back and forth couldn’t be good for them.

The song the band had been playing was upbeat and quick enough to require swift movements across the floor, but one of the guitars started strumming something slower, and the rest of the instruments followed suit.

The dancers all slowed down. Some drifted off the floor while others chose to sway in place. Killian kept them moving and as they danced she caught sight of Emma. Made eye contact.

It stole her breath away.

 

####

Regina kept looking. David guided them across the dance floor and they were doing a good job of being casual while still drawing attention from Regina and Hook.

But they’d turn sometimes and she’d spy Regina over David’s shoulder. 

Eye contact.

And something electric shooting through Emma.

“You okay?”

“I feel stupid.”

“You look fanatic,” David said with a smile. He spun her and the smile got all goofy like an old dad kind of thing.

Goofy enough that Emma had to smile too. 

Then he pulled her back into him, sped the dancing up and wagged his eyebrows. 

“Stop,” she said with a laugh.

“Just being a dad. That’s what we do right? Embarrass our kids in public?”

Emma’s smile faltered. “David…”

He pulled her close enough that they were almost cheek to cheek. The perfect way to avoid eye contact.

“This used to be on my bucket list. You know, before.” Emma said nothing. “I was dancing with your mother at Cinderella’s wedding and I knew I wanted to be there. To dance at my daughter’s wedding. And every birthday. I was gonna teach her the stupid dances the farmers used to do in barns. Stuff her mom,” she felt his head turn, and if she’d looked she would have seen his one eye on her, “ **your** mom, didn’t know.”

They swayed, barely moving. Other couples flowed around them  to the gentle rhythm. Regina’s campy “Evil Bitch From Hell” smirk had died down to something gentle as she and Hook spoke softly.

Emma was stuck with David, who was trying not to watch her as they dance. She thought of all the things she could have said to try and make him feel better for sending her away. For losing all that time that had left her bitter and hard. And she thought of the really awful stuff she’d stored up when she was sleeping in her car or in booths at truck stops. 

But what came out, instead, was the kind of truth she’d never been in the habit of giving until that curse broke. “This one family I had made me do that racist Indian Princess crap? You know the father daughter stuff?” He nodded, the curse most have stuck that in his head. “They thought it would make me and the dad bond. Only he was always late or wouldn’t show up. So I’m with these people long enough that I get to the end school year ‘sweetheart banquet.’ Its just all these girls in dresses and their dads sober and employed and happy to be there and me in some hand me down jumper waiting on the guy who couldn’t be bothered. And it’s—“ 

It was hard. More than twenty years later and she felt a chip of ice in her that was never gonna thaw from that stupid dance.

David squeezed her hand, urging her with that one doleful eye. “It’s dumb really.” She looked him in the eye and then had to look away or she wouldn’t have been able to say it. She shrugged. “I used to imagine a guy who **would** show up. And because I was **six** I’d imagine dancing on his feet like all the other kids with their dads. That always seemed like a really big deal then. Which is dumb. I mean who even—“

David slipped one foot under hers and they wobbled from side to side—nearly falling. They caught ahold of each other. She grabbed his arms and he grabbed her waist.

He was bashful when he spoke. Blushing and knowing how ridiculous he was gonna sound but saying it anyway. “You know I’ve got pretty big feet Emma.”

“I was a kid,” she protested.

He slipped his other foot under hers and looped both arms around her waist. With no other place to hold on and not look silly as hell she had to reach up and loop her arms around his neck. 

“I know. And I wasn’t there. But I’m gonna try now—okay?” He rested his cheek against hers. Guys always had really scratchy stubble, but his was a soft peach fuzz. It didn’t feel so bad against her skin. 

“David. I’m nearly thirty. I don’t need—“

“Can you let me?” They were the same height normally, and standing on his toes didn’t change much. So she was looking directly into that one eye and she could see how he had little lines around his eye sockets like someone a lot older and how the sun was creating freckles on his nose. “Even if it’s just for this song.”

In spite of being sheriff and out in public and on a dance floor shared with a woman who’d used magic kisses to keep her from turning into a tree Emma relaxed in his arms. He smelled like bonfires and the ocean and for just a second, with his arms around her, she felt safe.

Like that little girl waiting on a nonexistent dad at the sweetheart banquet.

 

####

“Keep staring at her and she’s bound to notice.”

“Would you shut up.”

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell her.”

“Because she has the emotional capacity of a teaspoon and will run away terrified. I have to be patient.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. 

“I have to **try** at least.”

“I’m almost proud of you Regina.” He wouldn’t be if he knew about the kiss. “Be prouder if you went before the whole town and announced you’d saved them from an apocalyptic future where your mother was queen of Storybrooke and there were statues of you on every corner.”

“Trying to rehabilitate my image is a waste of time,” she sniffed, “these people like to sit on their high horses and judge those of us who make mistakes.”

“And murder hundreds and cast every land into darkness.”

“Point is we’re on one side of the line of morality and they’re on the other guarding it bitterly. They won’t let me cross just because I tell a good story.”

“Fair enough. And it’s a bit more fun over on this side of the line anyway isn’t it? We can drink all day, start fights and kill to our hearts content.”

Regina frowned, “Killed anyone in particular Killian?”

“Not yet,” he nodded to the crowd, “but there’s time.”

In between the Blue Fairy and a few of her nuns and Belle was Rumpel, standing at the edge of the dance floor, his knuckles white against the handle of his cane and his eyes stony flecks of fool’s gold.

“I didn’t know he’d come.”

“Why’d you think I asked you to dance love?”

She should have known. “Was that what it’s about? Reminding him you’re here?”

Killian’s grin was wicked. “And friendly with his former protege.” He spun her around and pulled her back to his front, his arm keeping her in place and his hook digging into her hand. “You won’t let me kill him,” he whispered into her ear, “so I might as well goad him.”

She spun out again and back into a proper stance. But further apart this time, more formal than was appropriate for the slow rhythm of the song. “I have reasons.”

“That shouldn’t matter. You swore an oath.”

She corrected him, “I made a promise.”

“Semantics Regina.” He slipped into her personal space, leering down at her. He dropped to hand to lift her chin with his hook. Anyone watching would have thought it was seductive. “You may be a mate, but I’ll have my revenge.”

She knocked the appendage away with her hand, and quickly forced him back into dancing. “Take it from me Killian, revenge isn’t worth it.” She tried to keep her gaze cool. They didn’t need the others around them seeing the growing discord.

“You mean your mother’s ire?”

Her head snapped up. Killian nodded. “I know all about his visits to her. And yours.” A hint of a frown touched his eyebrows. “Take it from me love, as much as she may love you now she doesn’t deserve your love in return. And she certainly doesn’t deserve your favors.”

“She’s not the only reason—“

“She’s the only one that matters.”

“I’m doing this for **you** Killian. I saw what revenge did in that other world—what **my** revenge ultimately created.” A son dying in her arms. “It isn’t worth it.”

“Really? You’ve got your son back, and the girl, and your mother.” The outer curve of his hook swiped across her bandaged hand, “You even managed to have your health. Where I sit revenge got you everything you dreamed.”

“I got **a** girl. She’s not her.”

His hook dropped to her waist and he pulled her close again. His chapped lips brushed her ear. “Way Mulan tells it she was enough of the girl for you to wake her with a kiss.”

She shoved him back so violently he crashed into another couple. The dancers around them all stopped and with a screech of  bow across cat gut the band stopped too.

Killian sneered, “Hypocrisy doesn’t suit our kind. Leave it to the white hats.”

David reached Killian first and grabbed his arm, but Killian shoved him aside with his shoulder and rammed his way through the crowd.

All eyes turned to Regina.

Most of them looked so…happy at the discord. Snow was aghast and the tentative smile that kept creeping onto Henry’s face all evening was gone. Even Emma was staring.

Regina felt like she’d fallen into ice water.

Emma started towards her even as Mulan and Aurora went after Killian.

The Blue Fairy was amused, but Grumpy smirked first. Then it turned into a laugh, and others laughed too. A trickle turned into a wave of laughter. And death at Snow White’s hand, exile, her heart physically torn from her body by Bluebeard. All were better than Storybrooke looking at her stricken face

and laughing.

 

####

Shit. The one word turned into a chant in Emma’s head as the cold consumed her, starting in the locket and spreading like she was lying in a drift of snow. 

Her feet were numb.

A few people snickered and Regina looked like they’d just crucified Henry in front of her and were feasting on his corpse. She was horrified—embarrassed beyond measure.

Emma started to call her name and go to her but Regina turned on her heel and vanished into the night in a puff of smoke. The cold in Emma was enough to make her want to curl up and pray for warmth, but she put one clumsy foot in front of the other and trudged after Regina.

She could **feel** her, which was unnerving enough. The locket seemed to have a direct link to the one Regina wore and she could sort of see the path to her in her head. She reached with her brain because it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do and the next thing she knew lightening lanced across her vision, the smell of ozone flooded her nose and she was standing on the beach, far from the clam bake and in front of a horrified Regina.

She’d pulled a handkerchief from somewhere to dab at non-existent tears, and she continued to clutch the handkerchief as she gaped wide eyed at Emma.

“Are you okay?”

“Am I—what the hell do you think you’re doing,” Regina shouted.

Emma **thought** she was going after Regina to see what the hell had happened on the dance floor. She said as much.

“I meant,” Regina waved the little white square of cloth at Emma’s general person, “ **that**.” She shoved the hanky in her pocket and came closer. The distant glow of the party caught in her eyes, highlighting their darkness while making them warmer all at once. “You just teleported.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just…thought?” She shivered. The cold was lingering.

Regina continued to stare in horror.

“What was I supposed to do? The only reason I ever get this cold is because **you’re** about to do something evil. So I went after you.”

“You thought I was going to hurt someone?”

Emma hugged herself and nodded. Her teeth were chattering. “I just felt the cold Regina. Which,” she squeezed tighter, “I still feel by the way.”

Regina was surprised. Her bandaged hand, bright white even in the dark, flew to her locket. “Oh. I’m—sorry.” She exhaled evenly and the cold flowed out of Emma. “Sometimes I forget about the connection.” She wrung her hands together before putting them on Emma’s arms and rubbing vigorously. Emma froze—surprised at how easily Regina touched her. “I usually keep a barrier up between us. I must have let it slip.” She smiled sheepishly.

“Yeah,” Emma said, stunned, “Must have.” The layers between them kept any heat from transferring from one woman to the other. There was just the pressure of Regina’s hands on Emma’s arms. It felt…nice. “Only, that didn’t happen when you were dying or fighting Cora or—“ She reached up to stop Regina’s ministration, her hands on Regina’s wrists she pulled them away and put them between them. “When you kissed me.”

She really wished she could forget it. Or just let it go.

“I was upset. Killian—“

Emma pressed her fingers into Regina’s wrists. “You kissed me Regina. Why?”

The ocean pounding at the distant rocks and the faint strains of music from the party where overshadowed by breathing. Emma’s steady breath, and Regina’s ragged one.

“You,” she swallowed, “you keep asking, but we both know you don’t want the answer.”

“How do you—“ 

Regina slipped suddenly into Emma’s space, so that the whole length of their body’s touched. Regina’s nose almost brushed against Emma’s. She was looking at Emma’s lips and Emma could feel her racing pulse, Regina’s wrists still wrapped up in Emma’s hands.

“I know,” she licked her lips, “because I think right now you’re terrified.” She was still staring at Emma’s mouth, but her eyebrows quirked upwards, “Aren’t you?”

Emma was so scared she could barely piece thoughts together. All the insanity of Storybrooke was pounding against the walls she’d propped up in her head. Fairy nuns and distant wars and parents with no hearts. And Regina was the one bit slipping through the cracks. Demanding ingress with those awful knowing looks.

“I just want normal,” Emma whispered.

Regina still stared at her mouth, but smiled sadly. “What’s between us isn’t.” Her eyes flashed up to Emma’s—sending a streak of heat straight through her. “And it never will be.”

But a kiss—something physical— **that** would be familiar. Normal even. If her eyes were closed and the world disappeared behind a haze of something hot in the center of her it wouldn’t be so scary. Emma’s lips parted.

Could a kiss really bring down the walls? Undo her own sanity?

She crossed the distance.

And a blood curdling scream pierced the growing haze.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes some unpopular characters MAY make appearances. You may be annoyed but I'm flipping JAZZED. Also this chapter was going to be enormous, but it really needed to be split for a variety of reasons. So another chapter will be up in the next two days.

One minute Emma was on the beach with Regina about to do something **really** stupid and the next they were appearing in the middle of the clambake in a puff of purple smoke and everyone was staring at them. Then someone else screamed and Regina poofed them again, this time behind one of the tents that backed up to the parking lot.

Regina immediately let go of Emma’s hand.

Emma hadn’t even realized Regina had grabbed it.

Mother Superior was the one screaming, and a guy in a hoody had stopped about a foot in front of her. His hands were raised above his head and something shiny was clutched in one.

Emma reached for her gun with one hand and stretched her other out before her. “Hey,” she called. She crept forward, training her sights on the guy.

The Mother Superior was terrified. She was clutching her rosary and slowly backing away. “He’s trying—“

“Drop the knife,” Emma shouted.

Regina came up beside her, “It isn’t a knife. It’s a wand.”

A wand—where the hell did the guy get a wand?

“Drop the wand,” she amended.

The man looked over his shoulder at them, glassy eyes freezing Emma in place. Haunted eyes. Familiar in a way she couldn’t quite peg. 

The Mother Superior used his and Emma’s distraction as an opportunity. She yanked her own wand out, slashing it violently in his direction.

The ensuring blast of magic put the fairy on her back and sent the man sailing through the air. He crashed onto someone’s ancient Volkswagen Rabbit, the hood crumpling and the windshield smashing beneath him. Emma kept her gun trained on him as she backed up to check on the nun. 

“You okay?”

She nodded, “Yes, but Crysta… I heard her screaming and came around the corner to check. He hit her with something.”

“Something fatal,” Regina noted.

The other nun had fallen to the ground, her arms stretched out in front of her as if to block something and her face frozen in a scream. The handle of her wand reflected the light from the parking lot. She hadn’t even had a chance to draw it from its holster on her waist.

Emma grimaced, “There’s nothing we can do?”

Regina shook her head, “Not for whatever he hit her with.”

The Mother Superior looked so angry Emma half expected her to turn into a dragon or something. “This is the second woman under my protection he’s murdered.” Something intangible and distinctly **magical** swelled around the woman and she pushed Regina and Emma apart to stalk towards the man.

“Woah! Hey. No vigilantism Sister.” She jumped in front of the nun to physically block her. “I don’t care what he's done."

"You never care what they’ve done!” It was practically a snarl. Emma stepped back in surprise. 

Regina, behind the Mother Superior, raised an eyebrow, crossed her arms, and asked dryly, "Why do I feel this little tantrum is about more than the fairy killer?”

"Sheriff," Mother Superior ignored Regina. "Step aside."

Emma holstered her gun but didn't move. "Not if it means you killing him." She jabbed her finger at Regina, "And **you** don't antagonize her."

Regina rolled her eyes. "I'm not antagonizing, I’m simply—“ Suddenly her smirk turned into an expression of horror. She shouted Emma's name, yanked the Mother Superior back and reached over Emma's shoulder with one hand.

Their cheeks brushed.

Which was a stupid thing to notice. Just like it was stupid to notice how nice Regina pressed against her felt or how nice she smelled or how Emma could have sworn she saw a single gray hair at Regina's temple. 

Because Regina had shoved the Mother Superior out of the way and reached over Emma to stop a bolt of magic from hitting Emma in the back.

And for just a second Regina was breathing hard and her mouth was about a quarter of an inch from Emma's and it was really, really **nice**.

And then the world ramped back into motion again and Regina was quickly shoving Emma aside and blocking two more bolts with her hand before waving her other hand and sending a car flying into the masked guy's face.

"Jesus!"

Regina smirked. "Not quite."

The man's feet protruded comically out from under the edge of the car.

"The idea was to **not** kill him."

"I saved your life, but please, let's argue over whether that very just murder was just."

"It wasn't!"

"I can't believe I'm saying it," Mother Superior took a deep breath and glanced at Regina with a combination of revulsion and respect, "but I agree with Regina."

Regina snorted.

"He murdered two of the women in my charge."

"You heard the nun. I was justified."

"You're a fairy and you’re an evil queen. Pretty sure both your moral compasses are skewed." Regina smirked again and the Mother Superior looked deeply offended. "Besides—"

Metal screeched as the car that had landed on the man turned into a cloud of tiny metal dust motes. The man, his face still hidden by his hood, rose up, waved his own wand menacingly, and then launched the cloud at them.

Moving on instinct Emma grabbed the woman closest to her and shielded her body from the oncoming cloud of what she was pretty sure was death. Regina seemed completely fragile in the moment. Tight and tiny and a little bony in Emma's arms.

The Mother Superior—or Blue—or whatever the hell she was going by, leapt forward and turned the cloud of metal into a flock of birds with a flick of her own wand. When they'd all fluttered away the guy was racing down the street, long legs eating up pavement like he was an Olympic runner.

The fairy nun waved her wand again and a **tree** reached out to grab the man, but he twirled and annihilated it with a swish and flick.

If she could have cursed Emma was pretty sure the nun would have.

Emma, accidentally, gave Regina a quick squeeze before pushing away and chasing after him. She was spryer than most of the people she knew and not even winded as her feet pounded hard against the ungiving pavement. She ducked her head to put on another burst of speed. Another foot and she’d be close enough to tackle the bastard.

Chasing guys down the street? That was natural. That was something Emma had been doing since she was barely out of prison. She didn’t even have to think to do it.

She sprang forward shoulder first to knock the guy to his knees. 

And then he seemed to

Well, he flickered.

Like a ghost image on an old UHF station. Suddenly he was a hundred feet further ahead and Emma was landing hands first on the pavement. Stray specs of gravel bit into her palms.

She pushed up and looked through her disheveled hair to watch the guy flicker forward again—even further out of reach.

She staggered to her feet and loped from a limp into a jog after him again.

Then a cloud of purple appeared between the two of them and Regina was walking towards the guy, fearless like a freaking terminator. He spun back around to shoot crap out of his wand. Fire. Ice. A flipping snake.

Regina just calmly cast them aside (or sent them into Emma's face in the case of the snake—that had Emma pausing to catch it, throw it into some bushes and squirm—because snake to the face).

The guy flickered forward again, and Regina poofed forward. Soon they were both out of sight and Emma was finally winded.

Headlights behind her drew her attention, and David’s truck squealed to a stop beside her. He jerked his head to the bed of his pickup. "Get in."

She barely had her ass over the lip of the truck before he was gunning it.

She managed to wrench open the sliding window between the cab and the bed of the truck despite David taking turns like they were in the Indy 500. His jaw was set firmly and his one eye narrowed with unerring focus.

“How’d you know where we were?”

“Blue pointed this way. Are you okay?”

“Not dead. Don’t know if I can say the same for the guy we’re chasing. If Regina gets to him first—“

The whole truck swung wide to avoid a six foot long slug flopping in the middle of the road.

“I’m more worried more about their collateral damage,” David grunted.

Emma had to agree.

And hope the slug wasn’t someone she knew.

Or the flock of seagulls.

Or the tiny monkey angrily banging two cymbals together.

“What the hell kind of sorcerer is this guy,” she shouted.

“How should I know?”

He swerved around a pit of boiling tar that used to be the intersection between Main and Harvard.

Far, far ahead Emma could see the puff of smoke from Regina’s teleportation and she could feel the tug on her necklace with each leap—like it was begging her to just tear through time and space to provide Regina some back up.

She leaned back into the cab, “If you can get a little closer I think I can teleport up there ahead and give Regina some help.”

“How?”

He swerved to avoid a ferociously barking fur covered car.

“I’ll figure that out. Just see what you can do.”

“There’s not much further to go. We’re nearly to the town line. He goes through and he’s cursed again.”

Which would solve one problem. But create another. Stopping a killer was important, but with the fairies being weird and all the bad guys talking about oncoming war Emma kind of wanted to know **why** the guy was offing people.

“Then maybe—“ he swerved around living trees that reached out for the car with gnarled branches— “step up on it David!”

 

####

Regina wasn’t winded, but she was monumentally irritated and her magic reserves were depleted. The only thing keeping her from full on wrath was the bright orange line on the ground indicating the edge of the curse. The hooded man was standing before it, his shoulders rising and falling.

The chase was done.

“End of the road,” she didn’t quite crow. “We both know that all you can do with that wand are little distractions. So drop it and surrender and I’ll only turn you into a…cat or something. You can hunt mice at the sheriff’s station.” 

His back still to her he held his wand out at his side. His wrist was loose—as though he were about to drop it.

“There’s a war coming,” he said in a voice so deep it had to be fake.

Regina rolled her eyes, “Of course there is. If you all wanted it to be a secret you should really stop talking about it.”

His head turned, as if he was looking over his shoulder. “What side will you choose Queen?”

“The side that keeps the people I love alive.”

A car was coming. Headlights illuminated the man. 

No. 

 **Cars**. One coming from the town and one coming from beyond it. To Storybrooke.

Regina couldn’t see the man’s mouth but she could hear the pleasure in his voice. “Good.”

“What is that supposed to—“

He suddenly flung the wand at her. It sliced through the air like a dart. Out of reflex she caught it. Her own magic, dark and oily and too hot and cold met with the potent fairy magic that charged the wand. The build up lasted just a split second. Long enough to watch the man spin on his heel, bow deeply, and step backwards over the line as the car coming up behind him swerved to avoid him.

He disappeared into the darkness and the car smashed into a tree and the wand exploded in Regina’s hand, launching her ten feet into the air. 

She heard someone call her name. Or she thought she did. The world was just **energy** in the moment. Energy and chaos and a weightless feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

Her head smacked into the pavement and lights flashed in her eyes and her teeth clashed painfully together.

Bells rung in her ears.

Time stopped. Or maybe it ran too quickly.

“Regina?”

She heard her name and tried to open her eyes, but it just made her head hurt more.

“Regina!”

She felt knees pressed against her side and chilly, pleasant hands touch her. A palm against the flat of her chest. One on her cheek. Then she was being pulled up against a body that smelled like leather and bonfire smoke and fingers were prodding the back of her head which she knew existed but which, for the moment, just felt sort of white.

Her brain wasn’t working right.

“She’s bleeding—David call an ambulance!”

“This guy over here needs one too. Hit his head pretty bad when he wrecked his car.”

Emma. That’s who was holding her.

“Emma?”

The hand in her hair stilled then tilted her head up so that when she cracked open her eyes she could see Emma Swan haloed by moonlight. And she looked terrified. 

“He went over the line. You need to go after him.”

Two whole sentences earned her one of Emma’s very rare and never directed at her looks of relief. It was followed by an even more unheard of **hug** as Emma pressed Regina’s head into her chest and sighed. Her cool hand was gently cupping the back of Regina’s head, but was mindful of whatever giant lump was forming there.

“I thought I was gonna have to tell Henry—”

“Not today,” she said—her voice muffled by Emma’s chest.

It must have felt weird having someone speaking into her chest because Emma froze again and then gently laid Regina back down and ignored commenting on what had been, unequivocally an **embrace.**  

She was so pleasantly surprised by the moment that she didn’t realize she was passing out until perhaps a second before darkness claimed her.

 

####

Emma didn’t have time to think about the very real concern she’d felt for Regina when she’d seen her struck. She didn’t have the luxury of time. Not with Regina passed out again and the murderer on the other side of the barrier and the town’s first official visitor half buried under the welcome sign.

God. She wouldn’t ever have time. Every day seemed to be a new gigantic blow to her brain and she was pretty sure one of these days they were gonna knock her on her ass permanently.

That’d be it. The end of Emma Swan. Killed by information overload.

She stripped off her jacket and used it as a pillow for Regina’s head. Her breathing seemed steady enough. She seemed **alive** enough. Just unconscious.

The guy in the car was a different story. David was kneeling next to the open car door and looking as grim as he always did with that damn eye patch. “Out cold, and—“ He peeled back the guy’s lip. His teeth were stained red.

“Maybe he bit his tongue,” Emma said hopefully.

“Not with our luck.” He wagged the phone he was holding in his other hand. “Called the hospital. EMTs should be here any—“ The distant wail of sirens rang through the night— “second. Mulan and Aurora are on their way too.”

“Good. We’ll go after the guy. He’s on foot and probably in the woods with no magic. So he shouldn’t be hard to find. Can you handle things here?”

He was offended. “Sure,” and grouchy looking, “I’ll try to keep this guy’s arrival low key. Hopefully most people will still be at the clam bake and we can get this guy in and out of town in a couple of hours.”

And if that didn’t work there was a six foot slug and a furry car and a whole host of other junk flying around town after the murderer’s escape. Between all of that and Regina’s major embarrassment on the dance floor the town gossip was gonna be overpacked.

Well…at least she hoped it’d be.

 

####

It wasn’t. After four hours wandering the woods outside of town and coming up with no murderer and then chasing a giant slug down Main with a bag of salt Emma made her way to the hospital and found Mary Margaret, the Mother Superior, every frickin’ dwarf in town, David, Ruby, and, inexplicably, Dr. Hopper waiting for her.

They turned as one and when she walked through the sliding doors, and it was only with immense effort on her part that she didn’t walk right back out into the night.

“Who’s watching Henry?”

“Granny,” Ruby supplied.

“And the rest of you are skipping the clam bake because…?”

“It’s after midnight and we got a stranger in town,” Leroy said.

Emma shot David a dirty look and he waved helplessly at his wife. “They needed to know,” Mary Margaret somehow said both urgently and lamely. Woman couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.

“There’s a time and a place,” Emma snapped.

Mary Margaret wilted and her husband tried to put his arm on her shoulders. She shrugged it off and backed away from the group hugging herself.

None of the rest noticed. They all stepped forward as one, firing off questions like they were entitled and it wasn’t the end of a really, really, **really** long day.

Lots of questions. Half of which she had no answers for. 

“Enough,” she shouted. “I know you are all…concerned, and curious, but it’s police business not,” she waved at them, “town busy body business.”

“Did you miss the part where he’s a **stranger** ,” one of the dwarves (Happy?) asked.

“And the part where this is a town of **magic** ,” Leroy followed up. “Did you not see Splash?”

“Of course I saw—you guys aren’t mermaids and no one is kidnapping you for experiments.”

“Yet,” Ruby said, “but this guy sees me trotting around on a full moon and we’ve got problems.”

“So don’t go for a walk on a full moon?”

Ruby glared.

“Here’s the thing, no one is getting kidnapped. Okay? I mean as far as this guy knows we’re just a tiny town with a lot of very concerned citizens.” She made a point of making eye contact with each of them, “Right?”

“That’s what you **think** he knows,” Leroy countered. “But he could be a spy or another murderer or the Evil Queen’s minion for all **we** know.”

Shitty minion of the last one was the case.

“I don’t—I looked in his car okay? Gas receipts for up and down the coast of Maine and a half eaten lobster roll. Not the stuff you’d find in a spy’s car.”

“That’s what he **wants** you to think,” another dwarf said.

She sighed, “Fine. David you got his phone?”

“Sure,” He’d stuck it in an evidence bag and had it in his back pocket. He produced it quickly. “It’s password protected though. We couldn’t get through.”

“He tried to get me to hack it,” Leroy grumbled.

She shot David an incredulous look. “With what? A pickaxe?”

“That’s what **I** said.”

“Luckily for you I’m a really good bail bonds woman and not a tiny miner.” She pulled out the usb fob she kept on her keyring. It was illegal pretty much everywhere and definitely, positively, not appropriate for an upstanding sheriff to have, but for a bail bonds person who lived bounty to bounty it had saved her bacon more that once.

“What’s that,” Mary Margaret asked.

“Me being awesome,” she said casually. She plugged it into his phone where it quickly made short work of the four digit passcode he’d used. “We might have been in trouble if he’d added another digit or two to this code, but fortunately for us—“ his home screen popped up and she flipped through dialed calls and his photos, “he’s an ordinary joe. Not a spy, a minion, a murderer or even,” a grainy photo of some dry looking steak scrolled by, “a particularly good photographer. I think we’re in the clear.”

Blue jutted out her chin, “Perhaps where it concerns our visitor. But what about the other one. Where’s the man who is murdering my sisters?”

Almost a dozen eyes swiveled back to zero in on Emma. “We haven’t found him, but I’ve got Aurora and Mulan still looking—“ Leroy rolled his eyes— “for him.” 

“Great,” Leroy mumbled, “how are the pillow princess and her cross dressing girlfriend gonna find him?”

“With their eyeballs Leroy, just like anyone else would. Only, you know, Mulan is a famous warrior tracker so she’s probably better than a grumpy janitor.” 

Dopey (she thought—she had no idea for sure though) laughed. “She’s got you there buddy.” A few of the other dwarves snickered and the high energy of the group dwindled.

With the mob settled Emma bought a stale coffee from the vending machine and went on a hunt for Dr. Whale. David and Mary Margaret trailed after her and Mary Margaret kept opening her mouth to apologize and then not saying anything.

They eventually found the doctor slipping out of a room and looking way too furtive for Emma’s comfort. 

“Everything all right,” Mary Margaret asked him.

He jumped in surprise and straightened his tie and smoothed his hair. “Oh yes. Fine.”

“How’s the patient?”

“She’s well enough. She has a lot of bruises but no concussion. With her magic she’ll heal just fine at home—“

“We meant the car crash guy,” David said, looping his thumbs into his belt loops and posturing. He must have been tired because he usually didn’t get so macho with Whale.

Or maybe it was because his wife slept with the guy and was standing right next to him.

“Asleep, for now. We repaired the internal bleeding la—“ Emma’s eyes glazed over as he talked about medical stuff none of them understood. The gist, as well as she could gather, was that the guy was asleep and would be stuck in a hospital bed for the next week.

“Is he conscious,” she asked.

He looked exasperated. Like he’d already explained, “No,” he said slowly. “But he should be awake within the hour. **One** of you can speak with him then.”

They agreed to meet outside the guy’s door by two o’clock. David and Mary Margaret went home for real coffee and to check on Henry. Knowing she couldn’t go home because she’d pass out as soon as she crossed the threshold Emma opted to stay at the hospital.

Making sure Regina was okay had **nothing** to do with it.

That’s just where her aching feet took her. To the room she’d seen Whale step out of.

She’d assumed Regina would be sleeping with the head bump and the late hour so she didn’t bother peeking in first.

She got an eyeful of half-naked Regina for her trouble. Regina was wincing and pulling back on her shirt giving Emma a brief glimpse of stomach and expensive bra in the process. It was black, and navy blue, and lacy.

“Can I help you,” a testy Regina asked. She glared at Emma with one raised eyebrow.

“I…” Emma tried to force **anything** out of her mouth. Nothing came.

Regina put her hands on her hips, and with the unbuttoned shirt and all that skin it was doing things to Emma’s addled brain. 

The kind of things that had her pretty sure she was the one with the bump on her head.

“This is where you turn around to be polite Emma. **Not** where you continue to gape at me.”

“Right, sorry.” She turned around. “I’m just trying to figure out how that bra isn’t showing through your shirt. ”

“Thick fabric—shouldn’t you be at home by now?”

“Waiting on the car crash victim to wake up.”

“Whale said he’s from beyond the town.”

“That’s what his license and registration say too. I want to just make sure he keeps thinking he crashed in Podunk, Maine instead of super magical Storybrooke, Maine. Thought I’d check up on you while I wait.”

Regina gave her her “I’m fine but really I’m not fine” smile. “No concussion. But half my body and the back of my skull apparently match my bra.”

“Fashionable.”

Emma’s palms felt a little sweaty and she stuck them both in her back pockets. “You uh…need a ride home? I got time.”

Regina carefully buttoned up her shirt. The bandage that had become a permanent fixture on one hand was smudged with road sludge and looked like it needed to be changed. “I don’t think that’s best, do you?” 

Emma looked back up at her face in surprise. “What? Why?”

She was very plaintive looking—as though a stare could communicate whatever was going on in her head. 

“Because of the beach,” Emma ventured.

Regina tilted her head. “You seemed…confused. Somehow I don’t think helping me to bed and playing nursemaid will help.”

“Who said anything about a bed?”

“Well with my back I don’t think doing those kind of activities on the stairs would be advisable.”

Emma rolled her eyes, “Jesus. This?” She waved between them, “Was not me hitting on you. It’s me being polite. What happened on the beach was me being **too** polite so you stop molesting me with your eyes every time we’re in the same room and I’ll stop being confused.” She did air quotes around the last word. “Deal?”

Regina leaned down to tug on her boots. The position just happened to present a view of her ass that, until recently, Emma would not have considered glorious. “And curious,” Regina reminded her, “don’t forget curious.”

She popped back up and Emma’s eyes were drawn to the locket on Regina’s chest. Regina tapped it. “You wanted to know about this. Remember?”

“Fine. You don’t molest me with your eyes. I don’t do whatever it is that seems to be leading you on.”

Regina then dragged her eyes up and down Emma’s body before smiling. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

She shrugged, “Fine.”

“You’re not…hurt?”

She cocked her head, “Should I be?”

“Well, I mean,” Emma rubbed her nose and looked down, “Because of what happened in the forest the other day.”

“Ah. That.”

“Yeah. That.” Archenemy mother of your child kisses weren’t supposed to be that pleasant.

Or magical.

“The truth is I didn’t think what I did would work because **you** , the one standing here sneaking looks at my ass, are not the person that I might, conceivably, be hurt by. So **you** putting an end to things really has no bearings on **my** feelings in the long run.”

“Because I’m not h—“

Regina shook her head, “No questions remember.” She waved her hand up and down between them like there was an invisible wall, “Cessation of…things.”

“Right.”

“That means you stop staring Emma.” She twirled her finger, “You turn around and walk out.”

“Okay.”

“And whatever you do? Don’t look back.”

Emma did walk out. But she looked back too. So she saw Regina’s shoulders sag and she saw her twist one hand in the other. And she saw the look on her face.

Emma had a gift for seeing lies. And Regina had just told a whopper.

 

####

The car crash victim was named Greg Mendell. Mulan helpfully told Regina all about it over slices of apple pie and steaming mugs of fresh brewed coffee. She’d stopped by Sunday morning to check on Regina and had stayed until nearly noon, chatting and helping with the cider brewing downstairs.

Though chatting wasn’t the best term to use. Mulan, while far from the stoic warrior stereotype people constantly painted her as, still possessed a particular efficiency of conversation. When alone with her Regina often found herself slipping into a similar habit. So after the coffee and pie and updates on the night’s events (no sign of the murderer and no threat from Mendell) they worked in pleasant silence.

The work itself kept Regina’s mind off her headache.

And Emma Swan.

It was as though she’d been cursed to think of her constantly. Sifting through every conversation with every version of her. Remembering little details like how her lower lip jutted out when she was flabbergasted by the town and how she stuck her hands in her back pockets when she was trying not to be flirtatious. 

Thinking about her wasn’t healthy. Mulan, Aurora and even Killian would have happily told Regina as much.

But it didn’t stop her mind from drifting. Didn’t stop the ache when the impossibility of her struck Regina. And it didn’t stop the little smile when she thought of those moments. The **good** ones. When they’d kissed. When they’d shared. When she’d not just seen but **felt** Emma’s concern.

Mulan was crushing apples in the press and spinning the handle with gusto and Regina knelt next to a keg to pour a sample from a recently (and hopefully well aged) batch. The boozy fumes helped her headache, and the crisp scent of apples soothed her.

Her locket blazed briefly. Which meant somewhere in town someone had said something that had pissed Emma off. It happened often enough that Regina usually just funneled the swell of Emma’s magic into herself. A kind of unconscious habit she’d been forced to develop with the other Emma.

But her head was throbbing from the day before and funneling the magic only made it worse. She winced.

Mulan looked up sharply. Never missing a thing. “You okay?”

“Of course.”

“Either the cider is bad or you’re hurt.”

“I’m was punted across the highway last night by a stolen fairy wand,” she grumbled, “okay is relative at the moment.”

“You should take it easy.”

“Thank you **mother**.” Knowing Regina’s mother Mulan was offended. “A figure of speech,” she quickly said.

“Thank you **Hitler** ,” Mulan deadpanned. Nice to know she was brushing up on the new world’s history.

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Fine. Stalin?”

“You’re just spouting off the names of well known genocidal despots.”

“If the shoe fits.”

It did. Technically.

Once.

Sort of.

Was it genocide if they were wood sprites?

Regina went back to sampling cider and Mulan went back to preparing the next batch. At noon the door to the outside was flung open and sunlight poured in. They shaded and their eyes and blinked up at the incursion. 

Aurora poked her head in, “Why are you two down here all alone?”

“I’m giving your girlfriend tips.”

“Please don’t. I’d rather not think of you in bed.”

“ **Cider** tips dear. Get your head out of the gutter.”

Two and a half years on a boat with Killian had sapped Aurora of all her potential to feel shame. She hadn’t even blushed at Regina’s failed double entendre. “Mind if I borrow Mulan? I have an idea for finding our missing murderer.” 

“I though you lost the trail when he rounded back to the road last night?”

“I did?”

They both looked at Aurora curiously.

“I’m not telling you my idea because you’ll tell me I’m stupid and I already got enough eye rolling from Emma this morning rounding up that furry dog car.”

“Fine. You two have fun wandering the forest again then.”

Aurora nodded like Regina had given her an order. “We will. Also Henry’s upstairs and there aren’t any Charmings around. I’m pretty sure he ran away again.”

 

####

Henry had not run away.

He did, however, walk across town just to check on his mother.

And get some comic books.

And his winter coat.

And spend the night.

A call to Emma confirmed his plans.

Though Emma also sounded like she didn’t actually know about the plan until Regina and Henry called and she just wanted Regina to think she was a good mom.

That would teach her to think parenting Henry would be easy. Regina was a fantastic mother and Henry had once given her the slip and fled to **Boston**. Mom for six weeks Emma didn’t stand chance.

To celebrate her son pulling one over on Emma Regina offered to make an elaborate lunch, but she got dizzy boiling water for the rice so they settled on sandwiches and ate on stools in the kitchen.

Henry dangled his feet and happily munched on his ham on sourdough. She’d need to get more bread soon.

“Emma told me what happened,” he said. He was trying to sound much older than he was, but he had both elbows on the counter top and was holding his sandwich in both hands. A glop of mayo slid out the bottom and onto his plate and there was a small smear of it on the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sure she put her spin on it,” Regina groused.

“She said you were chasing the guy who’s killing the nuns and he tried to blow you up.”

“That’s…” Actually very accurate.

He grinned—looking younger than he was, “I’m glad.”

That she’d nearly been blown up? 

“That you were helping,” he quickly amended when he realized what it sounded like he’d said. 

She could see how he wanted to say more. Maybe tell her how proud he was of her for changing. He didn’t. More than two months living with one Charming or another but he still understood his mother’s pride and how not to wound it with earnest platitudes.

Once upon a time he would have happily said it just to see the hurt on her face. Back then it seemed like he thought hurting her was the only way he could prove to himself she cared.

She reached for the pitcher of orange juice and poured Henry another glass. “How are you finding living with Emma?”

“It’s nice,” he said reflexively. “And weird,” he added. “There’s four of us and just one bathroom and Grams takes **forever** when we’re getting ready for school and Gramps doesn’t put the seat down.”

She tried not to snort. 

“Also Emma keeps taking me to Granny’s so Gram and Gramps can nap—which is stupid. I can **be** quiet.”

“I know you can.” Snow and David’s “napping” sessions must have been horrifically awkward with her heart, and thus most of her ability to love, gone.

“Emma and I share a bed, so some nights its like a sleepover. But she fidgets all night and makes the bed hot and she says I kick.”

“You’ve been that way since you were a baby. Graham used to compare you to a mule as a toddler.”

He frowned at the mention of the former sheriff and Regina felt something approaching regret. The other Henry had forgiven her for doing what she felt had been necessary. For ending a life that threatened to undo her own. She doubted a younger and more idealistic son would do the same. This Henry still used his own ethics like a sword and shield.

“They have that furry car corralled at the school bus depot, would you like to go see it,” she asked, changing the subject.

“What about your head?”

“I can’t boil water, but I think I can manage a peaceful walk with my son.”

They quickly finished their lunches and pulled on their coats. The walk to the depot would have been too long for Henry a few years ago, but now he kept jogging ahead, full of energy.

Every once in a while he’d pause and look back at her. Sometimes she thought it was with pride for the woman that saved Storybrooke and was handpicked to find a murderer. And sometimes, she was positive it was with disgust for the woman he knew killed someone **he’d** loved.

They never said Graham’s name after he died. And two and a half years and another Henry later she remembered why.

Regret was a sickly feeling inside of her and she didn’t like it one bit.


	6. Chapter 6

Furry car. Housed at bus depot. Actually dog. Keeps licking people who get close. Disaster averted.

Tiny monkey with cymbals. Actually Little Boy Blue. Turned back to human with rising sun. Returned to parents. Disaster averted.

Six foot long slug. Salted when it destroyed three vegetable gardens and slimed Chip Potts while he was chasing it with a stick. Determined to likely be a feral cat. Did not have boots. Disaster averted (we think).

Tar pit. Filled with rocks. Former ogre upset because he was planning to bathe in it. Neighbors glad because they did not want to see a naked ogre bathing in a tar pit in the center of Main Street. Disaster averted.

Living trees trying to grab people. Pruned. Disaster averted.

Flock of seagulls. Decent music. 

“I don’t think this is how a police report goes.”

Emma leaned back in her chair, “ **We’re** the police. It can go how we want.” It was Monday morning and after a full weekend of work Emma was finally starting to feel like things were under control.

“And Flock of Seagulls isn’t decent. They’re **great** ,” David continued. Surprised, Emma looked up. “They just have bad hair,” he added bashfully.

“Monumentally bad hair. Mary Margaret on a humid day bad.”

He winced. Mary Margaret wore hats on humid days and if a person valued their lives they didn’t mention it.

“Now back to the report: Flock of seagulls. Decent band. Terrible birds. Flew away. Hopefully not a loved one. Disaster averted.”

“Murderer of two fairies. Ran away. Disaster imminent,” Aurora drawled. She strode into the room in an outfit out of an L.L. Bean catalog, complete with leather and rubber boots, a farm jacket a size too big and a flannel shirt. “But Deputy Basile has a lead. Disaster,” she paused to appreciate her own self, “potentially averted.”

“I **really** don’t think this is how police reports go,” David whined.

“Just wait until she gets to the part on how she got the lead,” Mulan said. She’d come in behind her girlfriend, and was wearing her usual deputy uniform, only with the legs tucked into a pair of boots that matched Aurora’s. She bent down to unlace them. 

Aurora moved into the center of the room, shrugging off her coat. The deputy badge she wore around her neck flashed as it caught sunlight streaming in through the window. “It was genius.”

“I doubt Emma will agree.”

That just made Emma nervous. She looked warily at Aurora, “What did you do?”

“I talked to witnesses.”

“David and I did that last night. Blue was the only witness.”

“Of the murder. **I** talked to those who witnessed his escape. A car picked him up and drove away,” she pulled out her cellphone, “I got the license plate number and everything.”

“How?”

“She talked to birds.”

She talked to— “Huh?”

Aurora preened, “I’ll admit it’s been years since I tried, but as you know all princesses can talk to birds.”

Not all princesses. Regina talking to them just sent them plummeting to their deaths. 

“Right. Regina taught me that in the Enchanted Forest. Which is full of magic. Maine isn’t magical.”

“But the town is. I found a very lovely owl out near the barrier and he spoke with a whole flock of different kind of birds and they went out, asked questions, and came back.”

She was so proud of herself Emma didn’t even ask if she was serious.

“Isn’t it wonderful,” Aurora asked brightly.

Emma’s brain was definitely leaking out through her ears. It had to be. Not just from the news that the murderer was immune to the curse, but by how Aurora had come by the information. She had—she’d just— “How the hell are you supposed to put that in a police report!”

“I don’t know, **you’re** the sheriff. Also, we need bird seed.”

“A lot of bird seed,” Mulan said.

“Why do we need—“

Regina, and her perfect timing, chose that moment to click clack in in high heels and a dressy gray ensemble, “Emma why does the outside of the police station look like a Hitchcock film?”

 

####

Regina was not allowed to help with the bird problem. 

Something about having to clean up all the corpses if she opened her mouth in front of them.

David and Mulan went to the feed store for the seed to satisfy the legion and Emma and Aurora stood outside shouting platitudes to sooth them.

It left the station completely empty, and if Regina had had it in her head to do something awful she could have.

But she was a good and relatively honest woman now. Loosening all the screws on the chairs would be rude. As would switching the labels for the salt and the sugar in the kitchenette. Leaving keys to all the locks hidden under the pillows in the cells was just illegal.

Well, switching the labels on the sugar and salt wouldn’t be **that** rude, and if given time she could come up for reasons why the sheriff and her deputies all deserved it. It was accomplished with a simple swish of her hand.

It was not why she’d come to the station though. She’d come to examine the wand the murderer used. Emma was still insistent on Regina being the de facto magic consultant—much to the Blue Fairy’s frustration—and after a day of rest she was ready to get back to investigating.

The man had now killed someone important to Aurora, a former fairy who used to do nothing but sing in the forest and frolic with woodsmen, and he’d attacked Regina.

 **Smiled** at her.

She wanted her hand in his chest, squeezing all his secrets out of him.

She drew a pair of rubber gloves from the box at the door to the evidence room. Their smell was nauseating and the one bulged over the bandage on her hand. Her hand itself ached the closer she got to the wand. Throbbed really. She pulled it into a fist clumsily and released again, hoping the movement would return some of the sensation leaching from it.

It didn’t.

Shoving it into the pocket of her coat she had to rely on her other hand to empty the evidence bag onto the table.

The wand had shattered into three pieces when she’d grabbed it and the faint outline of her hand could be seen on the largest, middle, piece. The tip of the wand was black as though scorched and the handle was a milky gray.

As a fairy’s wand it would have originally been iridescent and garish. Blue or green or whatever color the fairy holding it had been born to be. She could see faint traces of pink peeking through the gray. Just tiny veins of color. The handle was adorned with glass vines and berries that suggested the owner had been fond of vineyards.

Maybe the fairy had a problem with drink.

Like more than one of the fairy monks.

Been murdered while passed out.

Angry, violent magic came off the shards in waves. Somehow Regina’s own magic had burned itself into the wand, consuming what bits of the fairy magic were still in it. It had all been too much for the pieces and they pulsated angrily because of it.

She apologized aloud, and was glad everyone else was gone.

Wands weren’t sentient, but years of having a fairy’s magic funneled through them imbued them was a kind of consciousness. 

“I need to know who used you last,” she whispered, “my magic may have broken you, but it was their hand that threw you. So any help you could give would be appreciated.”

It continued to give off a raw anger that would have driven most to their knees. Regina was familiar with the emotion. After all it was what fueled her own magic.

Her other hand twitched suddenly in her pocket and she yanked it free and watched as her fingers all tightened and curled like a talon.

The wound on her hand, only half healed and maybe never mended whole, spasmed with intense pain. She gritted her teeth and did what the wand couldn’t quite ask. She yanked the glove bandages off and watched as magic in the wand arced up toward the cut. A spark struck the flesh. She didn’t see it. Seeing it required looking at her hand. She could only feel it.

More and more magic from the wand shot upwards, pelting her hand like pinpricks of fire. The wound flared with heat so intense she thought her whole hand might burst into flames. Magic coursed in through the wound and filled her with gray, errant thoughts she couldn't quite grab hold of.

Then, because one explosion in a day and a half wasn’t enough.

The wand exploded again.

 

####

Emma was waltzing back into the station to make sure Regina wasn’t switching the sugar and the salt or something equally juvenile when something loud sort of “whoomphed” in the evidence room. Black soot shot out from around the door, caking the surrounding wall and floor.

She rushed toward the door knowing that could never be a good side when it swung wide open and Regina stepped out, covered in even more soot.

Emma stopped short. “Do I want to know?”

“I was examining the wand the murderer used,” she said primly. Which was a feat, what with her being a completely matte black except for the now startling whites of her eyes. “It exploded.”

“That seems to be happening a lot around you.”

Regina slapped the sleeves of her jacket and clouds of soot plumed out. Emma stepped back a step to avoid getting covered.

“Are you…okay at least?”

Regina looked down at her hand—the one that had had a bandage on it since her return. She flexed it. “I appear to be.” She ran the thumb of her other hand down her palm. Soot was smeared away to reveal an angry red wound that ran the width of her palm. Dark veins of black spread out from it.

“That’s—“

Regina shoved her hand into her pocket. “A reminder not to step between people and cursed knives.”

“I didn’t—“

“Know? Why should you?” 

“I don’t—is it healing at least?”

“Slowly.” She raised her shoulders and shook herself. It would have been a small movement, but clouds of soot fell off of her. “But that’s not what we should be discussing,” she said. Purple smoke ran over her and the soot disappeared. She pulled her hand out of her pocket and wrapped it in a new bandage with practiced efficiency. 

“You want to talk about the wand.”

“The previous user was…not kind.”

“Kind of gathered from the murders.”

“The wand showed me its past. He killed the fairy he took it from. Stabbed him with the wand.”

“Him? There are guy fairies?”

“Of course. They make wine in their monastery out in the woods.”

“Seriously?”

Regina raised an eyebrow.

“There’s a whole other group of fairies out there and no one thought to mention it?”

“I presumed you knew. You **do** have a map of the entire town. What did you think the giant gray “monastery” part was?”

She though it was a park or something. “Why do I never see them walking around then?”

Regina pursed her lips in satisfaction, “I made sure they were all very private, and that they took vows of silence.” It blossomed into a full blown grin, “Male fairies are normally much more gregarious than their female counterparts.”

God, she was an asshole. “You’re such an asshole.”

Regina wouldn’t deny it. She continued smiling smugly and shrugged instead.

“And why do I get the feeling you aren’t the only one being an asshole about this. The Mother Superior said all her nuns were at Granny’s when Merryweather was murdered, and we **know** they were all at the clambake the other night. That leaves the monks she failed to mention.”

“Who never leave their monastery—even to murder nuns,” Regina reminded her.

“Right, but if the guy is murdering nuns its not like he takes his vows too seriously.” 

“You really think the Blue Fairy, purported purveyor of all things good, knew about the murders?”

“If Gold can fall in love with a woman than a fairy can murder people and another one can screw with my investigation.”

“Don’t let others hear you say that Emma. Fairies are…respected where we come from, and for good reason. They’re **incapable** of killing.”

“Right. Mother Superior told me it shows up on them if they do kill. Like a mark or something.”

“Exactly. The monks would notice if one of their number were killing, and they’d report it. That’s in their nature too.”

“Maybe.” She sighed. “Fairy conspiracy because of this “war” or whatever does sound kind of crazy.” Regina said nothing. “And I guess Aurora did say the killer had someone pick him up. That kind of means the threat’s from outside the town.”

“Which may be worse.”

“I don’t know. Outside the town means Leroy’s Splash theory could be right. Inside the town means someone knows how to get out without losing their memories and are hiding it to help with some huge war we know nothing about.”

“They sound equally awful.”

“Yeah. You get vivisected or you get to be in whatever the hell this war is supposed to be.”

Regina mulled it over, “If I had to choose, I think I’d prefer war that spans lands. I get to kill more people that way.”

Such. **Such** an asshole.

“So lets hope the monks are up to no good then.” Emma jerked her head in the direction of the parking lot, “Want to take a ride and find out?”

“Do I get to kill them if they are?”

“No. But I might let you inflate them. We can tie them to the back of the cruiser and float ‘em to jail.”

“Not your mother’s justice,” she sniffed.

“The day I try to do justice like my mother just shoot me in the face.”

She didn’t know why she said that. She didn’t actually know anything about Mary Margaret and the other land and her brand of justice. But Regina beamed, and that seemed like a good enough reason in the moment.

 

####

“How, uh, was Henry yesterday?”

Emma insisted on driving, despite having only a vague idea of where she was going, and she drove slower than Aurora she sat in the driver’s seat.

Well, not actually. Aurora tended to rabbit on the break. Emma cruised, letting the car speedometer smoothly slide from too fast to too slow and back again. 

“He was good. It felt a little like old times.”

Emma nodded. “Good. Maybe we could…do it again sometime.”

“Share custody? Done playing parent so soon?”

She twisted her hands on the steering wheel. 

Regina flexed her bad hand. “Sorry.”

“I get it, you know, your frustration?”

“Do you?”

She nodded again, “Sure. You adopt a kid and care for him and love him as much as you can and then get a broken curse and me for your trouble. You had him to yourself and now you’ve gotta share.”

“You make Henry sounds like a cookie.”

“I’m just saying I understand why you’re mad about the living situation. So I want to help.”

“Help would be having him home.”

“Even if he doesn’t want to be there? Because honestly, right now, I think it should be up to him you know? He should have a choice.”

“You think that because you were an orphan forced to grow up when you were three. Henry’s a sheltered boy who wanted to break the curse so he could go horseback riding and fight dragons. I’m **allowing** him to stay with you because it seems to do him good.”

“Allowing?” She shot Regina a skeptical sideways glance.

“Allowing,” she reiterated. “And I think it would be a mistake to give him too much control in this situation. We start treating him like an adult and soon he’ll be one. And you and I both know the dangers of growing up too fast.”

Something in Emma’s jaw tightened and she squeezed the steering wheel again. “So you get him for weekends,” she said finally.

“ **I’m** the weekend dad?”

“For now. Then, when he’s not quite so—“

“Henry?”

“Right—we can switch. Do every other week or something. Let him think he’s running the show at least. After everything we’ve done—“ **She’d** done Emma’s tone implied— “It’s the least we can do.”

“Fine.”

They continued on in silence. Regina hadn’t expected that much give from Emma. Maybe every other weekend—or just every other Saturday. Just like—she laughed.

“What,” Emma asked.

“It’s like we’re divorced parents. Negotiating custody.”

“Only less lawyers. And none of the marriage benefits”

“That can change.”

Emma blushed and pressed down on the gas. Normally the silence would have been irritating, but Emma hadn’t reminded Regina of their cessation of “things.” Hadn’t reinforced the self-imposed wall between them.

It was a victory.

A small, small victory.

She leaned back in her seat and didn’t even bother to wipe the smile from her face.

 

####

Emma would lie to the face of anyone who asked, but, feet to the fire, when she thought of monks she thought of the little squirrelly guy in Sister Act 2. The group home had had terrible TV reception and you needed someone on the roof holding the antenna and pointing towards the center of town while to other people dance around the tv with foil just to watch anything without snow static. That movie had been one of exactly three they’d had on VHS. Which meant no dancing. They’d watched it until the tape was stripped and even tracking couldn’t save it. 

It had formed a lot of her opinions of holy orders.

So she’d expected lots of goofy guys in big brown robes and bigger hats, but the monks all wore slim white robes with black cowls and thick sashes. And they all **hated** Regina.

Silently of course.

The curse was broken but most of them retained their vows.

Puck, the **actual** Puck, led the monastery as Blue’s proxy. He'd put on weight since the curse and his belly protruded over the chains he wore instead of a sash. He had a friendly smile, and a white blond hereditary tonsure highlighted by his dark skin.

Apparently once upon a time Regina had done something that got him kicked out of a fairy court and wrapped in chains of iron--the ones still around his waist. He seemed to hate Regina most of all. Just, with a smile.

Emma used it to her advantage. When people raged at Regina they also tended to spill a lot of secrets. Between all the threats and insults was all kinds of very informative chatter.

So she learned that the Mother Superior had a morale problem and one of the monks was **very** close to Archie. And she learned all about parties at a moonshine still deeper in the forest with the nuns when the Mother Superior had gone to bed. And she learned about the growing number of missing monks who declared their intent to become hermits and were never seen again.

And that Regina used to have threesomes with Puck and Clarion—whoever the hell that was.

It was irritating that **that’s** what stuck out to her and lingered in her head the way back to Storybrooke. 

Regina and a couple of good looking fairies doing—“I was an evil queen with a leather fetish,” Regina mumbled, like she was **apologizing**. But the leather just made it worse. As did the apology. “Besides she was a queen and he was her most loyal servant and they were quite persuasive.”

Emma tried to ignore her.

“And **you’re** a loner bounty hunter with a very open mind regarding sexuality. You’re honestly telling me you **haven’t** had threesomes?”

“Me not having a gender preference has nothing to do with how many partners I sleep with, also, I am not talking about who I have or have not slept with, because unlike **you** I like to keep my underpants business **private**.”

“Mine was private until you **dragged** me along to talk to Puck.”

“I invited you and you said yes! **You** were the one that knew your ex was going to be there.” One of them at least.

“We were really more partners. Like in tennis.”

“Tennis partners don’t get naked and do things with crops!”

Regina sulked.

Emma sulked.

They made it back to town without either one magically shooting the other out a car window.

That night Emma watched the Disney version of Snow White and tried to enjoy the part where the Queen fell of a cliff. She also ignored the nervous looks and wide berth her family gave her.

Regina having threesomes with hot fairies thirty something years ago shouldn’t have bothered her. The woman was her family’s archenemy and that was something that was actually **bad**. Her sleeping with some never dressed fairies and going through a leathery bondage sounding phase was the opposite of bad. It was good healthy sexy fun.

What was bad. What was truly atrocious.

Was the jealousy.

Emma was **jealous**. 

That seemed worse than all the murder and mayhem in the world.

She spent the next week purposely not asking Regina for help and trying to solve a case that was quickly beginning to look like fairy on fairy homicide.

It managed to get worse when they went to look up the license plate number Aurora had acquired. “Name is Peter Tamlin,” David announced. “Lives in Boston.”

Only when they found his residence in Google Maps a sinking feelinged developed in Emma’s stomach. Because wherever Peter Tamlin lived it wasn’t at 1245 Worcester Street. Not unless he was given to living in malls.

“It’s a market,” Mulan said. “People live in markets.”

“Maybe where you’re from. But **here** that’s a shopping mall and people don’t live there.”

“So we’re screwed,” David asked.

“We’re screwed.”

God, if Leory's Splash theory ended up being right Emma wouldn't have to be worried about being vivisected. She'd kill herself.

With their best lead ruined they returned to walking through the forest looking for missing monks. It was long, mundane, irritating work and it gave Emma way too much time to think. 

About Regina.

And how walks through the forest didn’t suck quite as much with her around.

 

####

“I won’t do it.” Regina crossed her arms to make herself sound more determined.

Aurora sighed. “I’m not asking you. Emma is.”

“Then Emma can get off that high and mighty horse she inherited from her parents and ask me herself.”

“She’s busy.”

“I know. Judging me.”

“No,” bless the princess, she was trying to be patient. “She’s out in the woods looking for the stills and the missing hermits.”

“Something you can do.”

“She thinks you’re mad at her.”

“She **judged** me.”

“I judge you every time you open your mouth and **we’re** still talking.”

“That’s different.”

Aurora smirked.

Regina rolled her eyes, “Oh shut up.” She turned back around to continue chopping onions. She was working on her knife skills. They’d gotten rusty when she’d been stuck on a boat for nearly three years. Before she never used the mandoline sitting at the bottom of the pantry and now she couldn’t even make scalloped potatoes without it.

Aurora came around the kitchen island and leaned on the countertop. “It’s not like it’s a major request.” 

She turned around and wagged the knife in Aurora’s face, “You’re asking me to figure out how someone could pass through a barrier **none** of them should be able to pass through. That’s fairly significant.”

“Isn’t it just…reading books?”

“No,” her onion slices were getting too uneven and she pushed them to the edge of the cutting board in disgust. “In order to figure out how they are manipulating the curse I have to understand the curse.”

“But you cast it.”

“I did a lot of stupid things. It was thirty years ago and I was very upset. I never, technically—“

“Understood the curse?”

She shivered. “The results of it. The curse itself I understood. Far too well.”

The knife in her hand suddenly resembled one used long, long ago. She could still remember the slick blood coating her hands. 

It clattered loudly on the cutting board and she stepped back. The taste for practicing her skills turning noxious. 

“To understand **what** it did I’d have to talk to Rumpelstiltskin and talking to him is at the very top of a very long list of things I don’t want to do.”

“I didn’t want to bury my godmother after she was drowned, but here I am.”

Of all the manipulative things Aurora could have said, **that** was the most effective. Because Regina could still see the grief that had added new lines to Aurora’s face. And in her head she could still hear her sobs from that night. 

“You volunteered to come, didn’t you? You knew I’d reject Emma but if **you** asked in the most manipulative way possible I’d agree.”

The corners of Aurora’s mouth turned up. Just a fraction. “No, you would have done it if she asked too, but I need you to do it because **I** need to find this man. I need to see justice done.”

She sighed theatrically and leaned back against the counter. “Very well. I’ll speak with him.” Aurora started to say thanks and Regina quickly continued, “But be careful. Justice can turn to vengeance at the drop of a hat and they are very different things.”

“Worried about my soul? After all these years?”

“I’m rather fond of it sometimes. I’d hate to see it blackened.”

“Careful Regina. You keep talking like that and you could wind up hugged. Or worse.”

“What’s worse than your pitiful attempt at displaying affection?”

Aurora got all moon eyed, “You could find yourself loved.”

 

####

Emma lied about going into the woods again. They’d been at it for days and found nothing but a blind guy with an axe chopping wood. Aurora had suggested they avoid him, “I’m fairly certain he’s one of those riddle masters that will kill you if you meet him and don’t answer his riddle.”

Riddle masters were becoming common enough—with the threats of death at least—that Emma was seriously considered speaking to the town council about having the practice outlawed, or at least regulated to get rid of the potential for murder part.

That afternoon when Aurora said she was going to talk to Regina Emma said she’d go into the woods alone, and then made her way to the hospital instead.

To the cells beneath the hospital to be accurate.

It had been nearly a full week since Merryweather’s murder. All Emma had to show for it was an ever expanding mystery, a car that could lick people and a new, awkward component to her relationship with Regina.

Her instincts were telling her the missing monks were the right track to follow. But they hadn’t left much of a track. She needed someone who could find them.

And she found Whale in the hall between her and her mission.

Shifty as always.

“Something wrong with the prisoners,” she asked.

He glanced at Cora’s cell. “They’re fine. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“You know they’re not your patients right? They’re here because this is the most secure place for them.”

“Cora asked me to come.”

“Next time miss the message.”

He sighed and looked away. “Why are you here sheriff?”

“None of your business, but seeing as you’re standing here **I’ve** got a question for **you**.”

He raised an eyebrow and fidgeted. 

“Know anything about the monks with the vineyard outside of town?”

“Their early 80s stuff is awful. Tastes a little mildewy.”

“I’m thinking about the monks that have gone missing. Monks with anatomy you seemed to know a lot about last time we seriously talked.”

“If you’re asking if I’ve ever vivisected a fairy. Yes.”

…

That was. Easy? 

“In another land. Gold kept me in good supply and I know for a fact your dear friend Regina looked the other way. So if you decided to arrest me for it make sure there’s enough room in the cell.”

He tried to brush past, and normally, after a shocker like that she might have let him. But his arrogance grated on her **very** frayed nerves and she yanked him to a stop with a tight grip on his arm. “I don’t care about what happened over there,” she snarled. “I care about here. **My** town. I find out you know anything about those monks you won’t need a cell.”

His eyebrow arched cooly once more, “A threat sheriff. The mayor’s hot headedness is rubbing off.”

She leaned in close enough that she could smell the antiseptic on his skin and mint meant to hide the alcohol on his breath. “What to find out what else I picked up from her?”

The way his skin went pasty white said he did not. He jerked his arm out of her hand and rotated both shoulders trying to reclaim some of his pride. “Careful sheriff,” he managed to say, “one of these days you and your queen may find out out that threats and proclamations aren’t power. And if I’m there you can be sure I’ll be helping teach the lesson.”

 

####

Clutching his cane in one hand and dusting the glass countertops in his shop with the other Rumpelstiltskin looked decidedly less impressive than she knew him to be. He looked doddering. Old. **Simple**.

“All out of love potions dearie,” he said without looking up.

“I don’t need potions to get people to love me.”

“Just time travel.”

Regina shrugged, “It’s helpful.”

He tossed the rag on the top of a basket of cleaning materials. “So why **are** you here? I thought you’d be busy trying to woo our noble Sheriff Swan.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“Cecily.”

God that stupid witch and her fat mouth. “Cecily should be careful what secrets she shares.”

“You kissed her in the middle of a forest filled with magic. If you wanted it private you should have done it in your bedroom.”

“I would have but that idiot gnome was turning her into a tree.”

That earned her a rare look of surprise, “My my, you **do** get up to interesting things in the forest.”

“You should try it some time. That girlfriend of yours doesn’t strike me as the type to be content spending all her time  here and at the library.”

“She loves books.”

“She also loves traveling. Or did I not abduct her in the Middle Kingdom while she was battling a mythological cat?”

Rumpel glared, “Reminiscing with you is always so entertaining and not the least bit irritating.” He spun a funny looking globe on the counter. When it stopped it New York City it seemed to pulsate in a deep red. “Why are you here Regina?”

“I need information.”

“I don’t know who’s killing fairies.”

“I have my own suspicions about that. What I need to know is about the curse.”

“You cast it.” He couldn’t stop the gloating smirk.

“And you made it. And hid more than one detail about it from me already.”

“And you think I’ve hidden more.”

“I think if anyone in this town knows how to escape the barrier still in place it’s the man who created the thing.”

He shrugged, “I might know a thing or two…”

“And let me guess. You’ll tell me, for a price?”

His eyes briefly flashed gold. He looked like a man, but the imp was still there, vibrating in his skin.

 

####

Her reason for coming to the hospital was at the end of the row of cells, sitting in a chair with half moon spectacles perched on the end of his nose and the bill of his bright red hat casting most of his face in shadows—everything but the bulbous tip of his nose and that long beard.

“How’s the prison life treating you,” she asked through the window at the center of the door.

He didn’t look up from the book in his lap. Instead he licked a finger and turned the page.

“You’re tied to the earth right? So I’m betting sitting in a ten by ten cement cell is making you a little crazy.”

His eyes flicked up to the door and then back down to his page.

“What if I could get you released. For a day or two?”

He shut the book firmly. “You’ve only just put me in here.”

“I have, but I need someone who talks to the forest, and you’re who I’ve got.”

“Get a princess to do it.”

“I’ve tried. I need someone who,” she took a deep breath, “I need someone who talks to trees. You do that. Right?”

“Any particular reason?”

“There are monks, missing in the woods, I need to find them.”

He grinned. “The missing monks. The sheriff finally starts catching on.”

“You knew?”

“It’s a conspiracy.”

“So shed some light on it. We’ll work on getting you an early release.” She didn’t mention the man she’d just spoken too. if David the gnome knew anything he’d have to provide it himself. 

He sucked in a loud breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. “No.”

“No?”

“You stuck me in a cell and want me to unmask a massive conspiracy that could easily have me killed for what? A few days in the forest? No.”

“You realize this is the only offer right? I walk away and you rot in here. Maybe for years.”

“But I’ll be alive. I help you and I’m the next fae folk on the murderer’s list.”

“What do you mean fae?”

“You’ve got an encyclopedia of magic knowledge at your beck and call Sheriff. Figure it out for yourself.”

“He means fairies and their descendants.” Cora’s voice was filtered by the shuttered door of her cell, but it was clear enough for Emma to shudder at the sound.

All the monsters she’d met, and Cora was the most unnerving. Especially now with a heart.

David sneered at the wall separating him for Cora. “No one asked you.”

“She asked for help. I’m merely offering it.”

Emma shut the window to David’s cell and moved to Cora’s. She nodded to the nurse at the end of the hall, who hurried to open it. When she stepped in the stone in the ceiling keeping Cora from using magic touched her with its suffocating affect. Like wearing pants too thick for the weather.

Cora sat primly on her bed, her back ramrod straight and her hair down and perfectly coifed. She didn’t see a hairbrush anywhere and wondered how she got it so neat.

“You have something to say?”

“I have many things to say Sheriff.” Her mouth stretched into a too still smile, “For a price.”

 

####

“So name it.”

Regina had made enough deals with Rumpel to not need to linger on pleasantries. Especially as they were only pleasant for the imp. 

"Oh I don't know--" He was playing at being coy, and if they'd been anywhere but **his** shop she would have flexed her magic a bit. "I want a promise from you."

"It doesn't have to do with my first born does it? My family has a history of getting out of that deal. Wouldn't want to renege on you by accident."

It was so delightful to watch his glee turn sour in an instant. Especially the way it made him look less like the Dark One and more like an old pawn shop broker with a limp.

"If one of us leaves the town the other must remain."

"Going on a trip?"

"I leave and you stay. You leave and I stay. Simple as that."

"Why?"

"That'll cost you another deal."

"Fine." She held out her hand. "One of us will always be in town."

The magic in his touch was the only thing colder than Regina's own, but it still made the scar on her hand burn like fire.

 

####

"You want what?"

"Dinner. With my daughter. And my grandson." She picked at her dress.

"Okay…you know that just because I'm sheriff I can't order citizens around."

"No, but you can let me out for a day on good behavior."

"I--"

"And you can talk to my daughter."

"What makes you think me talking to her would do any good?"

"She saved your mother, the one person in the world she hates more than me, because **you** asked her to."

"I never did."

She tilted her head, "Didn't you?"

 

####

He set a vial of liquid on the countertop. "The only way to get through the barrier is while holding your dearest possesion after covering it with this."

She looked from the vial and back up to Rumpel's face and didn't hide her incredulity. "Seriously? A potion?"

"I recall you being fond of them."

"I love them." She pointed, "You don't."

"They have their uses from time to time."

"How's it made?"

"Carefully."

Regina couldn't stop her face from screwing up into a very nasty and angry expression. 

"Watch it dear. You'll get wrinkles."

"Who," she said through gritted teeth, "has access?"

"Oh well that," he threw the vial up in the air and caught it smoothly, "is something I **can** answer. Me, and only me. No monks, nuns, or murderers."

"So this," she glanced back over at the globe. Closer inspection showed it was imcomplete, the lands fading the further from New York they way. "You are going on a trip."

Vial still clutched in his hand he pointed at her, "And you're staying here."

"The murderer is out there," she gestured with her hands, "I can't catch him if you're roadtripping across America."

"Suppose you can't. Shame. Think he'll knock off another one of those godmothers? Maybe the red one this time."

"You wait a few hundred years to be reunited with your son. Wait a little longer. Let me find this bastard and put him in--"

"I've waited long enough," he sneered. "Now it's your turn to be patient **your majesty**."

"People will die."

"Since when did you care?"

It was like a slap to the face.

That was the problem.

Until that other world. Until Emma and Henry.

She hadn't.

 

####

"That was…"

"Another time and place. I know. Your feelings may have changed, but I doubt my daughter's has. She's always had trouble," for just an instant Cora Mills looked pained, "Letting go."

"And you think me asking instead of you will help."

"You arrange a dinner. Oversee it yourself if you like. And I will tell you what I know."

"Great bargain, if you actually know anything."

"You want a show of faith?"

"It'd be nice."

"Fae are fairy folk. Ogres, sprites, that sanctimonious blue fairy. Creatures with magic that are not human. The gnome in the other cell is fae."

"You already said all this. Fairies and their descendants."

"Yes fairies and their descendants." Her eyebrows rose as if she was about to be earnest. "They're at war dear. And I think they mean to make Storybrooke their ground zero."

"How--"

The silken smile she'd come to associate with Cora replace what earnest altruism had briefly taken her. Smooth and soft and deadly as a snake. "He talks in his sleep. And I listen."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This chapter got kind of monstrous and away from me and was split, again, as a result. But bonus for you because more words?

**Chapter Seven**

Fairies.

Why couldn’t it have been a serial killer, or a jilted lover?

Why’d it have to be **fairies**.

Emma promised to get Cora her dinner date and got fairies in return.

“They’re at war?”

“I’ve no idea who they’re fighting—only that they **are** planning to fight them, and preparing Storybrooke for the battle.”

“And the dead fairies? Merryweather was supposedly stopping this—whatever.”

Cora’d shrugged, “Then maybe whoever murdered her **wants** war.”

Which ruled the fun loving peaceful can’t kill without it showing on their skin fairies out. She hoped.

“Now, I’ve told you what I know.”

“You have.”

“You’ll make the arrangements for me to visit my daughter?”

“We’ll see.”

Cora’s forced pleasant smile faltered. Her eyes were beady and focused. “We made a deal.”

“Sure did, and if I feel like upholding it I’ll put that dinner together for ya.”

“This—deals are made and **kept** Emma Swan. You don’t get to ignore it just because you **feel** like it.”

“No,” she rounded on the woman, “I get to ignore it because you want to be alone with my son and Regina.”

“I said you could stay.”

“And I say you’re a poisonous and vindictive woman stuck in a cage—right where she belongs. I’m not going to let you out for a day just so you can play mind games with my family.”

“I don’t care about your family. I care about **mine**.”

“Kinda sucks then doesn’t it? Because they’re my family too. You stay in the cage.” She turned and pounded on the door to be let out. She paused after the nurse opened the door. “And thanks for the tip.”

“You’re just like the rest of your kind,” Cora called. One last jab—a final push for some kind of victory.

“My kind?”

“Your mother. You don’t just look like that hypocritical little princess. You act like her too.”

 

####

She didn’t **really** look like Mary Margaret.

She paused to stare at her reflection in the rearview. Sure, similar cheeks and noses, and maybe their eyes were a little alike, but Mary Margaret was a brunette at home in frumpy mom clothes with a little mod flare. Emma wore leather and jeans. Mary Margaret would cry over a dead bird. Emma would put more gravy on it and save room for pie for desert.

They were different.

Her phone rang and with a glance at the ID she answered, “Tell me I’m not my mother.”

Regina was amused, “Have you been frolicking with woodland creatures lately?”

“No.”

“Fallen in love with a prince at first sight?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Are you living with dwarves?”

“Does Henry count?”

“No.”

“Then no.” 

“Congratulations then: you are not Snow White.”

“Or Mary Margaret?”

Regina actually **laughed**. Something throaty and new. “Definitely not.”

Emma sighed. “Thanks.”

“Why the sudden identity crisis?”

“Interviewing sources. One of them got under my skin.”

“Clearly. If you’re telling me I mean.”

“Right.”

“Yes.”

Emma drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Regina’s heels clicked a steady rhythm on the pavement.

“You…uh…called?”

A beat in between footsteps—just long enough to tell Emma Regina missed a step. Maybe stumbled. Or just stopped for a second. “I did.”

“About?”

“There is exactly one way in and out of the barrier, and Gold hasn’t let it out of his sight.”

“Which means the killer isn’t from Storybrooke.”

“Seems so.”

Shit. “And you’re sure?”

“Gold’s sure, which makes me sure.”

“Unless he’s part of it.”

“No. We struck a deal for the information. He wouldn’t lie. It’d void that deal.”

Part of Emma skipped a beat that time. “What kind of deal?”

“A lousy one.”

“Regina—“

“It’s fine. Really.”

“It’s not like a first born child kind of deal?”

“No. That’s my mother’s prerogative. Trust me. It shouldn’t affect you or Henry or anyone else in town for that matter.”

“What about you?”

“If it was a bad deal I wouldn’t have taken it. Now what did you learn?”

“That this stupid war might be real.”

Regina made that really irritating ‘mm hmm’ noise know it alls always made when they wanted to say they knew it all along but didn’t actually want to say it out loud.

“I’m gonna have to have another chat with the Mother Superior.”

“Do you need—I mean should I come? I’m very good at playing a ‘bad’ cop.”

She sounded kind of excited at the prospect. Eager enough that Emma smiled. “No. I think I’ve got both sides of the trope covered. But if you want to pick Henry up from school that would help things on this end? Keep me from rushing.”

“Done.” Her feet stopped clacking on the pavement and she sighed loudly into the phone. “I should go get my car down then.”

“It’s…up?”

“Someone misplaced it.” It sounded like she was gritting her teeth.

“Someone?”

“My enemies apparently either want to turn me into trees or stick my car **in** a tree. I’ll explain later.”

 

####

She’s had that car twenty-nine years and if it was harmed in any way she was going to find the idiot pranksters and flay them alive.

"Regina?"

She closed her eyes.

Of course.

A wet nose pressed against her palm as Pongo demanded a greeting even if Regina wasn't in the mood to give it. She turned slowly and found Pongo's master tilting his head and watching her curiously. 

"Archie."

"Why are you staring up at that tree?"

Her smile was so tight she thought something was going to split. "Because, if you'll direct your attention to the branches you will notice that my **car** is in the tree."

He pushed his glasses further up his nose and his eyes widened in surprise when they focused on the beautiful black Mercedes creaking in the branches. "It is!"

"It is."

“Regina.”

Oh god. She sighed. Steeled herself for the incoming stupidity hinted at in his helpful and concerned tone.

Archie tried to look very serious over the rims of his glasses. "Why did you put your car in a tree?"

Absolutely not. “No."

"No?" He tilted his head again.

"No, I'm not going to talk to you because you're clearly trying to psychoanalyze me."

He threw his hands up in defense and Pongo used the opportunity to pull closer and sniff Regina's crotch.

"I would never—not without your permission."

"Well, you don't have it. So hop along."

"Really, Regina…"

"Now."

Her tone didn't brook argument and Archie shuffled away, periodically pausing to glance back with a frown or tug on Pongo's leash as he whined loudly over the injustice of being pulled away from his favorite town resident.

It figured. The only long term resident of the town to love her unconditionally was a **dog**.

“Regina love, your car is stuck in a tree."

She closed her eyes again, just so she wouldn't have to watch Killian hitch up his pants and wander around underneath the tree and stare up at the undercarriage of her car.

She heard him take a swig of something.

" **How** is it in the tree? I thought cars were heavy."

"They are," she said without moving her jaw.

"Some strong man lob it up there?"

"No."

"The crocodile do it as a lark?"

"No."

He gave her a pitiable look, "You and the missus have a row and she fling it up there?”

The missus—"You're drunk."

He raised his wine bottle, "I am."

"And," she noticed something sticking out of his pants, “is that a wand!?"

He looked down at his crotch, "Well that's one way of putting it. I prefer to call it my sword—hey!"

She yanked the **actual** wand out of his pants by the handle and waved it in his face, "Where did you find a fairy wand!"

"The forest?"

"Where?"

"Where there are…trees?"

"So help me Killian if you don't start—wait a minute." She pointed the end of it at him and jammed him in the chest with the tip, "Did **you** stick my car in a tree?"

He grinned, suddenly malicious, "Great work eh?"

 

####

Henry was one of the last children out of the school so Regina had to suffer through all the children and their parents glaring, and then the parents trying to shield their children from the Evil Queen.

She grinned at any of them that made eye contact and delighted watching them scurry away—even if she could hear Emma scolding her in her head.

“Kid’s never gonna move back in with you if all the other kids are too scared to spend the night.”

The particularly brazen ones she tried a genuine smile on—but that seemed to be much, **much** worse.

The groaning in her back seat, with the pair of boots pressed against the window, probably didn’t help.

One woman stopped when she heard the groan and Regina tried a little half-hearted wave. Her passenger groaned again and the woman bolted.

“He’s not dead,” she called after her.

It didn’t help much.

“Really,” she said to the flock of children that rushed by. When they were far enough away they all screamed in unholy terror and kept running.

She rolled her eyes. “Children.”

“Mom?”

Henry was all alone, standing in the doorway to the school. His uniform sweater was getting too small in the shoulders and stretched awkwardly across his frame, and even though she’d seen him the day before it still seemed like he needed a haircut.

“Where’s Emma?”

“Solving crimes. I thought I’d pick you up.” She stood up straight and wrapped her arms around herself and tried the genuine smile again.

He crossed the road to the car warily. His backpack thumping noisily against his hip. “I could have made it home by myself.”

“I know you could have dear, but with everything going on Emma and I just wanted to be careful.”

“But they’re not trying to blow **me** up.”

She frowned at his surly tone. “No, they aren’t.” She tilted her head in question, “What’s wrong?”

“Why were you out here? **Waiting**?” It sounded like an accusation and she struggled not to bristle in response.

“We’ve been over this.”

“You made all those first graders scream.”

“That’s because they’re in first grade. It had nothing to do with me.”

He didn’t believe it, and her case didn’t improve when he threw his bag in the back seat without looking and was met with another loud groan.

"Mom, why is Captain Hook unconscious in the back of your car?”

“It’s a long story, but he deserved it.”

Henry scowled again and the drive back to Emma’s apartment was long. Quiet. Awkward.

 

####

“How’re the nuns doing,” was what Emma actually asked. 

“Tell me about this war you refuse to tell me about right now damn it” was what she **really** wanted to ask.

She was hanging around Regina for too much, because for half a second just wading into the thick of it and demanding answers seemed like a good idea.

“We’re grieving,” Blue said with a tight smile. “How’s the girl? Aurora? I know she was close to Merryweather.” It was something about the nun’s eyes. She was in on exactly what this meeting was about, but wasn’t prepared to say anything.

So Emma settled back to have a good old fashioned “we won’t say what we’re really thinking because you’re an obfuscating asshole and I don’t want to get turned into a bug” interview.

“It has her focused,” she said cooly. “She’s actually following a lead as we speak.” 

The lead being Whale. After Emma’s conversation with him at the hospital she’d given Aurora the go ahead to up surveillance on him. He was pinging her bad guy radar far too often to be left to his own devices.

“Any news?”

“I was gonna ask you that.”

The Mother Superior feigned surprise. “Me?”

“The murderer, he asked Regina about a war. And it isn’t the first time I’ve heard mention of it?”

“A war? Between Regina and the town?”

For whatever reason the Mother Superior wanted to be coy and beat around the bush. Emma obliged her, saying simply, “No.”

The nun rolled her wand between her thumbs and forefingers. “If I’d heard anything **you’d** be the first to know. The town’s safety is my utmost concern.”

It was a lie. A big bald lie. The fairy nun sat across from her blinking placidly and looking sincere and she’d just lied through her teeth.

And they both knew it.

“Just how important is the town to you?”

Blue frowned. It made her features much more severe. “The people of the Enchanted Forest are everything to me Sheriff. My mission in life is to keep them safe.”

“Including your nuns?”

She nodded.

“And the monks too then. Right?”

There it was. The tiny falter. The darkened eyes. The swell of magic Emma figured was her showing off her stuff. 

“To be a nun you must experience a calling. The Divine I’m now obliged to believe in must speak to you. The memories may be made by magic, but God did speak to me Sheriff. And my calling **is** this convent. And that monastery. And this town. It is the same for every other nun and monk in Storybrooke.”

“I got a calling too, remember?”

That seemed a better way to phrase it. It didn’t ache quite as much to say. “Destiny” felt all dry and bitter on her tongue. “Calling” was more rational—even if Blue had just said God spoke to her. Real people could have callings. Being a bail bonds person had been a calling.

Saving a town full of people that unconditionally loved her could be a calling too.

And it meant the two of them were kind of the same, around the edges. Stuck saving the town whether they wanted to or not. Henry’s book even gave them both names. 

Ruel Ghorm. 

Savior.

“I know you do. I was there the day you received it.”

“Then you know I can’t stop until I find out what’s happening and I end it.”

“The difference between your calling and mine, Sheriff, is you may abandon yours without repercussion.” 

She would have just walked away, but Henry at a turnover.

“That’s not gonna happen.”

She sat up straighter, “I told you all I can Emma. You need to trust me now.”

“I have to know someone to trust them, and no offense, but I don’t know you.”

“Your mother will vouch for me.”

“Too bad I don’t really know her either.”

“That’s too bad.” She tilted her head and gazed at Emma. “You’re very much alike.”

 

####

“I don’t see why I’m the one that has to go wandering around the whole bloody town with you.” Killian was complaining again. It had been going on off and on since she’d dragged him out into the woods after dinner.

She shined the beam of her flashlight into his eyes and he squinted and jerked away and tried to block it with his hook. “Because you were the one that found the wand.”

“I was also pissed. Can’t you just use a spell?”

They’d been following a magically lit path through town for over two hours— She peered at him, “What do you think I’ve been doing? This spell is tracing **your** steps.” 

“So that’s why we went to the Jolly Roger?”

“And why we went the Rabbit Hole, the diner and my bedroom window.” She raised an eyebrow and tried to keep the anger from coloring her voice.

Killian still hadn’t explained **that** visit.

He ignored her and nodded sagely. “This trip is starting to make more sense.”

“Just imagine how much sense it will make when you’re sober.”

“Things **never** make sense sober,” Killian insisted.

She conjured a bottle of water and tossed it to him. “If you want Aurora to try and stage an intervention keep talking like that.”

He accepted and took a hardy swig. “ **You** don’t make sense sober.”

“That a fact?”

He wagged his hook in her face, “You’re in love with the woman that took your revenge from you,” he wagged it again, like he was ticking items off his long lost fingers, “you’re trying to forgive the woman that murdered your lover, and…”

“And?”

“The whole town hates you but you’re trying to save their lives. So you, Regina Mills, make no sense.”

“I’m doing it for Henry.”

“That’s it then? The cure for revenge is adopting a whelp?”

“It’s better than alcohol.”

“We work with what we have love. And all I’ve got is bottles and bottles of rum.”

He raised the bottle of water in toast and took another long swig. 

The perpetual stubble on his chin had turned into a beard at some point, and she couldn’t even see his Adam’s apple as he drank.

“Oh, look,” he motioned with the bottle, “the trail’s gone all glowy.”

She looked up the path and saw that it had, indeed, “gone all glowy.”

“That’s not the technical term.”

“And I’m not a witch so I don’t care.” He waved his flashlight around the surrounding area, craning his neck to look up into the trees. A light fog had moved into town and left everything just damp enough to be irritating. Big fat drops of water collected on the branches overhead and noisily splashed onto the forest floor. 

“Come to think of it, this **does** look familiar,” he mused.

They trudged through the brush and both wrinkled their noses at what they found beside the glowing trail.

“And the rotting corpse,” Regina asked. “He familiar too?”

“Unfortunately…no.”

 

####

Emma clutched her coat collar tightly around her neck and tried not to frown. “Do I want to ask why the two of you were wandering around the woods in the middle of the night?”

“Killian got drunk and stuck my car in a tree this afternoon with a wand he found. We were tracing it to its source.” Regina waggled the wand between two fingers as illustration and Hook nodded as enthusiastically as a slowly sobering man could.

“Okay, so, pretty relevant question: why were you wandering around in the woods Hook?”

“I was drunk.”

“He was drunk.”

“And you just…wander when you’re drunk?”

“Yes?”

She raised her hand to rub the bridge of her nose but stopped when she saw the little bemused smirk on Regina’s face. She wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction, not when her butt was getting dragged out of the warm loft to come out to the middle of the woods.

“And you found the wand while drunk, but **not** the dead fairy monk.”

“To be fair,” Regina interjected, “the monk was covered in leaves.”

He was only partially covered in leaves now. They’d been brushed away from his protruding belly and a face that would have been gregarious when alive. Some of the leaves were still caught in his big white beard—

“Why does the dead fairy monk look like Santa Claus?”

Regina shared a look with Hook.

“Regina…” she half whined.

“Technically—”

Emma moaned, “Don’t—”

“—Technically his name is Sinterklaas.”

She looked back down at the dead man. He looked more like drunken mall Claus then the guy that was supposed to bring gifts and almost never did. “So Santa Claus is dead.”

“Sinterklaas love. Note how he’s real.” Hook snorted, “And not very jolly. Are you,” he shouted down at the dead man.

“He’s got a pot belly and a big white beard and his last name is **Claus**. What the hell am I supposed to tell the town—the kids?!”

“That he’s dead.”

“You’re not helping Hook.”

“Well, with Storybrooke at least, most of the children won’t be very upset,” Regina said. “Sinterklaas was actually rather nasty. He and his best friend Krampus ran around enslaving children.”

Hook gave the dead body a swift kick, “He was a right racist bugger too if I remember correctly.”

“Terrifically racist.”

“And now he’s dead. And a fairy apparently.”

“Jolly old man enslaves children or gives them presents? He’s either a fairy or a god.”

“Gods are real?”

Regina and Hook were both suddenly afflicted with a disturbingly bleak thousand yard stare. The kind that sent a chill straight up Emma’s spine. Regina snapped out of it first and gave a tight little nod. “Very.”

“Santa Claus and gods.” Did that mean Jesus existed? Like out in some other land? Was it blasphemous to think that? What if he **was** out there? Shit, what if he was cursed into the town? Like that stoner who wore flip flops all the time and talked about peace. “Hey Regina, is—“

Wait.

Gods.

No.

She shook her head.

That was just…it was ridiculous.

“Emma?”

“You all right love?”

She wasn’t all right. Santa Claus was rotting at her feet and she had just had the most inane thought ever.

Hook waved his hand in front of her face and Regina slapped it down. “Would you stop!”

“I think her mind just jumped ship.”

“No,” she croaked. “No, I’m fine. I just…I what if its gods?”

They both blinked.

“Gods are real right? And magic? The killer can move through the barrier, which they shouldn’t be able to do—“

“Unless they weren’t cursed—that includes an entire world Emma. It has nothing to do with gods.”

“So how do they know about Storybrooke? Why would they come here?  What reason would a regular person have to kill a fairy and leave the body. None. But gods at war would.”

Regina was definitely unconvinced, but just wore a reluctant expression on her face.

Hook full on laughed, “That’s a bit far fetched love.”

“Gods don’t just start wars Emma,” she finally said, “They’re **gods**. They start a war and they finish it. Quickly. They wouldn’t wander around Storybrooke picking off fairies and turning dogs into cars.”

“Look, I’m just trying to work in the wheelhouse you guys shoved me in. That creepy blind witch said it was a war between magic and its creators. So either the fairies **made** magic murderers, or they’re being offed by their creators.”

“That—“ Regina blustered.

“You have a better idea? Either of you.”

“Changelings figured out fairies made it to this land and are trying to kill them,” Regina said succinctly.

Hook nodded like he somehow understood and agreed.

“Wha—seriously?”

“Changelings are sent to every land, one must have made it here. That’s he they can get through the barrier and that’s why he's exclusively attacking fairies—specifically ones popular to children's films in this world.”

Santa Claus. Merryweather. Crysta **had** sort of looked like the one from FernGully. It made sense. A lot of sense. But—“there’s not a lot of evidence to support it.”

“Oh you mean beyond the dead fairies and a cryptic asshole who tried to blow me up? No, there isn’t, but it’s that or your god theory.”

“I vote for the one that doesn’t involve us facing off with gods again.”

“No one asked you Hook.”

He held his hands up in surrender.

"Fine," Emma sighed, "Sure. Changeling it is. You two are free to go then if you want then. I'll wait by myself for the EMTs and Mulan.”

Hook shouted to the heavens in joy and immediately tromped off into the woods. Leaving Emma alone with Regina, who was **staring** again.

"What?"

"You didn't put up much of a fight."

"It's magic. You know better."

"It's murder. I was under the impression that was your forte?"

"It was. But now I'm standing over the corpse of Santa Claus, got people talking about flipping changelings and gods and everyone and their mom is telling me how I remind them so much of **my** mom."

"Ah."

"Ah?"

Regina nodded, "You had a rough day didn't you?"

"What—?"

"That's twice you've mentioned Snow."

God. She hadn't even talked to her at dinner that night. Henry had been surly and not talking about it and it had set a mood—making everyone snappish. Between that and Cora and the Mother Superior Emma was worn out.

"You **are** like her."

And it got worse.

But then Regina's eyes just sort of **glowed**. Not with magic, but with gooey sentimentality that looked really weird on her. Then she blinked and normal snarky Regina was back in front of Emma. "But I've only tried to kill you once in this timeline, so you're clearly different."

“Thanks.”

She **was** grateful. She just didn’t know what for.

 

####

The next day, after dropping a still sullen Henry off at school Emma got the distinct pleasure of going to the convent **again** and informing Blue of a death **again** —though this time she had the grace to seem genuinely stricken—and dealing with her information blackout **again** and then sitting in on an autopsy with David **again**.

Then she got to spend an hour in the woods with Aurora talking to birds and trying to get them to watch the town border for the murderer.

She was running out of ideas. They had a name for the guy, Peter Tamlin, but the address was a joke and the only other Peter Tamlins she’d found all lived far away and all seemed very happy according to Facebook. So if he **was** a changeling then he’d changed his name before starting his murder spree and the only hope of finding him was catching him before he took another fairy out. 

Which meant Aurora’s bird network.

"I don't know how, but I think we're violating the Patriot Act with this thing.”

"Saving lives is patriotic," Aurora countered.

"Yeah, but invading peoples' privacy to do it is distinctly un-American."

"What the people of Storybrooke don't know can't hurt them."

"Thank you Cheney.”

“And are they technically American?” An accent popped up when she said America. Like how most people would say Tatooine.

“I have no idea, but we’re in America, so I’m going with it.”

“Who did the autopsy today?”

“Knowles.”

Aurora stopped short, “Know All?”

“No. Knowles. Who’s Know All?”

“No one. You didn’t have Whale do it?”

“I’ve got you watching the guy because we think he’s involved. Why would I have him do the autopsy?”

She shrugged, “He doesn’t seem very suspicious so far. Work and home. I kind of wish he’d vivisect someone already.”

"He could have."

"Not anyone we've found.”

“True,” They were still missing the body of the first monk, murdered with his own wand. “So…is the Whale hunt not enough?”

Aurora didn’t commit to a yes or no.

“Because if it isn’t—and you can handle it **and** the bird thing, then maybe you could take on something else too.”

“What are you asking for?” 

She took a deep breath. It was now or never. “I need someone who already has an in with the fairies to poke around.”

She’d been thinking about it a while, but had resisted saying anything. Aurora was the goddaughter of a victim and making her that involved with the case was dangerous, but of everyone she had working with her that she trusted she was the only one who actually **knew** the fairies.

“I’ve already asked my mother and my godmothers. They don’t know anything.”

“Would they lie?”

“Not to me.” Aurora was positive. “Not after what happened to Merryweather.” There was steel in her voice. Fervent commitment too.

“The prevailing theory is there’s a war and the fairies are fighting it and clamming up about it.”

“Which is possible, but my family wouldn’t be involved. They’re not popular with the others. Fairy marrying a human remember?”

“That’s not true. Your godmother was murdered because she was involved.”

“That’s what you heard from a cannibalistic witch.”

“That Regina trusts with the truth.”

“And Regina? What does she think of you using me to get information out of the fairies?”

“She doesn’t know. And it doesn’t matter. Changeling or not the fairies know more than they’re letting on, and we need to find out what.”

“I’ll try.”

“You will?”

She jutted her chin out, “I just said I wouldn’t didn’t I?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

They went back to talking to the birds, and **not** talking to one another. Aurora was quiet and her face was all screwed up in thought. She kept pausing and staring off—all the cylinders in her brain firing.

Emma was going to ask her if she was really okay with asking—what with clearly being troubled and thoughtful about it, but her phone rang.

It was a local number she didn’t know and she brought it up to her ear half expecting the killer to have called and cackled.

But it wasn’t the killer.

“This is Francis Grahame, the principal at Henry’s school?”

Changelings, fairies, gods and moms. None of them inundated her whole person with dread quite like those words. 

 

####

"Is Henry okay?"

For a time, before Emma had come to town, Regina got a call from Henry's school weekly. Always apologetic, always concerned, and always telling her her son had disappeared.

She'd find him up in the woods on the bluff looking out over the town sometimes, but usually he'd be out at that death trap "castle" on the beach, feet dangling over the side and hazel eyes fixated on the listless gray sea.

The bizarre malaise in a child, the quietness, the way he got angry when it was just the two of them, and would glare and sulk and flinch at her touch. That's when he started seeing Archie. That's when Mary Margaret decided he would be her project student.

That was when it all started to fall apart.

Calls from the school, without fail, caused her to panic. Not the big kind of panic where she'd cry and rush around and destroy anything that got too close.

But a still sort of panic that hummed inside of her and wouldn't ease until she'd seen her son.

 

####

"What's happened," Emma asked.

The principal coughed. He was a heavy set guy with no hair on top of his head, a couple of chins, and a fondness for tweed suits. "We really should wait for his mother."

Wow. Principal Grahame must have been the only guy in town who didn't consider Emma Henry's mom. 

"She's on all the forms," he said. He must have noticed her surprise. "We're part of the Maine school system now and I'd like to keep things tidy in case they visit. Unless, he was removed from her custody?”

That was a big word and it rankled Emma, "No," she said evenly, "he wasn't. And if you're being official why am I here?"

"You're the sheriff."

Henry was sitting in the chair beside her, apparently unharmed besides a small scrape on his chin. He ducked his head. His cheeks turned bright red.

"Kid, what did you do?"

The principal coughed again. His voice was hoarse, like the cough was kind of permanent. "We really should wait. Ms. Mills is…particular."

He didn't need to tell Emma that.

 

####

She lurched into the room breathlessly.

She'd driven when teleporting would have been faster. She wasn't completely sure why. 

It was like she wanted to be there to see what Henry had done and wanted to avoid the news as long as possible.

Which meant she **was** sure why. She'd been procrastinating.

Emma Swan was rubbing off on her.

And she was waiting in the principal's office with their son and the toady old man himself.

She and Henry both had identical expressions of contrition when they looked over their shoulders to see who'd burst in.

"What did they do," she asked.

Grahame shivered in his chair. "They—uh—nothing?"

"Really," Henry asked hopefully.

"He means me kid, **you** definitely did something," Emma said. "Not sure what though." She stared the principal down while Regina took a seat in the chair on the other side of Henry.

Regina gave her son a quick once over and her stomached lurched at the sight of his knuckles. "Henry! What on earth—" She snatched his hand up before he could pull away. "What happened to your hand!"

Emma craned for a look. "Jesus kid. Did you punch a wall?" The knuckles were all red and swollen.

"He punched Ava Zimmer,” the principal said matter of factly.

"You punched Ava Zimmer," Emma yelped.

"She's a girl," Regina cried.

"She's bigger than me!"

"Kid, that's still—you don't—punching is wrong!”

"You two punched each other,” he countered petulantly.

Regina flashed a warning look at Emma who looked as shocked as Regina felt. “I didn’t—who told you!”

His eyes bugged, “You guys punched each other!?” As if he wouldn’t believe whatever Emma said he turned to Regina. “Really?”

“We’re off topic,” she said cooly, “Why did you punch that street urchin?”

Emma groaned. “You **made** her a street urchin.”

“No, **she** made herself a street urchin, and why did you punch her Henry?”

He glowered and tucked his bruised hand under his armpit.

Beside him Emma sighed. “Come on kid. I’m sheriff. I’m gonna find out sooner than later.”

“Did she try to hurt you,” Regina prodded.

He snorted.

Emma thumped him on top of the head. “Don’t be sexist.”

“Henry. Please. Tell us.”

After a long moment of silence Grahame sighed. “Henry would you excuse your mo—would you excuse us? Just right outside is fine.”

He opened his mouth to protest, and then took in all three adults’ looks and thought better of it. He proceeded to stomp out with all the attitude of someone a good four years older. 

When Grahame was sure he was out of earshot he took a deep breath and scooted his chair, almost imperceptibly, closer to Emma. “Ms. Zimmer said something Henry didn’t agree with. That’s why he punched her.”

“My son doesn’t just go punching people because of disagreements Mr. Grahame. I raised him better.”

He didn’t verbally agree, or disagree, but the tight smile on his wide lips said he had his doubts. “This is why I asked Sheriff Swan here.”

“He punched her because she said something about me?”

He shook his head and motioned to Regina. “Because of her actually.”

 

####

That explained why he was acting all nervous and fidgeting and coughing. The principal had to deliver unpleasant news to the big bad Evil Queen and he was terrified.

“You asked me here to make sure she wouldn’t do anything,” Emma realized.

He looked back over at Regina.

For her part she seemed thunderstruck by the implications of what he was saying, and she’d gotten a little pasty because of it.

“You think,” she laughed, “you think what? You say something I disagree with and I’ll turn you into a toad?”

Grahame turned green. “It’s just,” he coughed, “you have a reputation ma’am.”

Ma’am. In Emma’s experience that meant he **wasn’t** from the Enchanted Forest. Those Curse victims called her “your majesty.” Every time.

Regina crossed her arms. She was slipping into the role of antagonist and she wore it comfortably, leaning back in her chair and raising one eyebrow. “Is that so,” she drawled. “Do enlighten **Mr**. Grahame.”

“We’re getting off track again. You asked us here to talk about Henry and why he punched Ava Zimmer. So what did she say?”

“She said Ms. Mills imprisoned her father and abandoned her and her brother in the woods.”

Regina shrugged.

Which meant she definitely did do that.

“So he punched her?”

“It’s not the first incident. Paige Grace told people about her father being abandoned in Wonderland? She and Henry got into a shouting matching that Ms. Blanchard had to break up. She and Henry didn’t mention it?”

Not even a peep.

“That’s all? Two little girls tell some old stories and Henry protects my reputation? Why is this a problem?”

“Because there’s the fact he rather forcefully insists **everyone** be polite to you. Forgive you even.”

Oh. Kid.

“And you must know ma’am. That simply isn’t possible. These children all have opinions and Henry must learn to deal with them.”

“People are attacking me through my son. He will not ‘deal with it’ Mr. Grahame. And neither will I. And if you don’t agree with **that** we can always find a new principal.”

“Woah, hey,” Emma scooted forward on the seat of her chair, leaning on the desk and putting her hand out between Regina and the principal. “He’s just doing his job Regina.”

“He said my son is being bullied and should accept it.”

“That’s—“

“That’s not what he said. He **said** kids are upset—“

“And taking it out on Henry! If they’re so mad they can come to me. **Not** Henry.” She was fervent on that point—channeling all the righteous rage of hers in a fundamentally different way than Emma was used to.

Before.

Before Regina would fight for Henry and it seemed like she was battling over a toy. There was passion but it was always kind of…distant.

The Regina sitting in the office opposite her was a mom. A protective, kind of overbearing, super powerful and bitchy…mom.

Emma wanted to reach out and tell her it was gonna be okay. But she stopped herself at the last second. Whatever she and Regina were they **weren’t** the kind of people who got emotional and earnest. Especially in public.

She took a deep breath. “Mr. Grahame if you don’t mind I think Regina and I will deal with Henry ourselves.”

Regina started to protest and Emma hurried to finish. “And I expect you to have a talk with your teachers—and the students if necessary. Whatever crimes Regina committed are **her** crimes, and if they want to be mad at her they can, but they will not be taking out their anger and frustration on **our** son. Can we agree on that?“

He nodded. “Of course. But…”

“Well, go on,” Regina said, “spit it out.”

“I still have to suspend Henry for the rest of the week.”

“Excuse me?” Regina’s voice was like ice water and Emma felt something awful and cold in her locket.

“He punched a girl.”

“He had provocation.”

“We don’t **punch** Ms. Mills.”

“Maybe you don’t—“

Emma blindly reached for Regina’s forearm, forcing her own—calm or whatever—into Regina. “We get it. He’s suspended. No more punching.”

Regina was furious and only half pretended to hide it. They came out of the principal’s office and she vibrated with anger. It didn’t help matters when they talked about taking Henry home and Henry interpreted that as the apartment. Again.

She insisted on driving Henry there herself. “You have a murder to investigate Ms. Swan. We’ll manage just fine.”

It was like Emma was in the dog house. Which—she wasn’t the one punching kids or threatening guys with magic! She was the rational one in this situation. 

If anything Regina and Henry should have been the apologetic ones. They were the ones with nasty tempers. Proving that some traits of a person weren’t bred, but learned.

She took a deep breath before turning the key in the ignition. She was feeling the urge to bust heads, or at least not feel so contrite when she was the innocent party. 

 

####

Emma got in her police cruiser and drove off with her foot too heavy on the gas.

And Regina and Henry sat.

“Mom.”

She tapped the steering wheel. Tried to school the myriad of thoughts roaming around in her head like a herd of centaurs.

“Mom?”

“What,” she asked cooly.

“Are you mad?” 

He was timid, for a change. And that timidity settled the monsters writhing in her head. “Yes,” she said, “but not at you.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because Goblin’s Glass is tremendous fun to write and well received doesn’t mean I’d forget about this one. Hold onto your short shorts as this chapter’s a doozy.

Being in Snow’s apartment always made Regina uncomfortable. It was such a foreign feeling place with its aged white brick walls and homey distressed decor. Nothing like Snow White—who loved her opulence even when she was making a living robbing people in the woods.

But it was the perfect apartment for the woman the curse had made Snow and being in it after the curse broke felt like…like being in the home of a dead woman. All that was missing were her things in boxes. 

There was an eery stillness to the place. The sense of a life suddenly abandoned.

Mary Margaret Blanchard and her mousey nerve and annoying empathy was gone—no matter what name that other creature clung to. Her home remained, a queer snapshot of a life lived the same for twenty-eight years.

Mostly. The TV was from the current decade, and Regina had been one of the only people in town with a microwave in 1983, meaning the stainless steel one on the counter was new.

“Where does Snow keep the chocolate,” she asked her son.

He’d flung his shoes off and was shoving them onto a new shelf by the door filled with a whole wealth of other peoples’ shoes. It was run over with them, just as the coat rack sagged under the weight of too many coats. She spied Emma’s wretched blue one. 

Henry turned back around, “You mean Grams?”

“Is that what she’s going by now?” If she sounded amused it was because she was. It must have killed Snow to be called a **grandmother**.

“I suggested it,” Henry said and there was a hint of mischievousness in his eyes that made Regina smile. It was a nice reminder for those times where it felt like she was the only one in the world her son made life difficult for. 

“And David is Gramps? What’s Emma?”

“Emma.”

“Not…Mom?”

He shrugged, “Sometimes. And the chocolate’s in her closet in a hat box. She doesn’t want Emma or David eating it.” 

Regina laid her coat over one of the stools at the counter and indicated Henry should take the free one. She went to the bedroom and quickly found the chocolate, lying under the hatbox filled with more ugly hats than any woman had a right to own. 

When she came back Henry had one elbow on the counter and was leaning into it and staring at his other hand. It was still red.

She dropped the chocolate on the counter and turned to the freezer. 

“What are you doing?”

“Making hot chocolate, and,” she pulled a towel off its place near the stove and filled it with ice, “making you an ice pack.”

He flexed his hand, “It’s fine.”

“Now. It will swell.” She dropped the home made ice pack on the counter next to him. “So ice it.”

“Couldn’t you fix it, you know, with magic?”

She was setting the chocolate on the counter and preparing to finely chop it, and Henry’s question gave her pause. “I…could.”

But Henry didn’t like magic. 

Or the one from before she’d left hadn’t. 

He’d **hated** her magic. 

The boy at the counter was curious, head tilted innocently. An image of the man he’d never become settled over him like a ghost and her eyes watered.

She got to chopping. The rhythm of the knife through candy soothing. “I thought you didn’t like magic,” she asked officiously.

He didn’t say whether he liked it or not. Just took the ice pack off and held his hand out and waited for her to set the knife down and take it.

It was cold, and he winced when she manipulated the fingers.  Holding his hand gently in her own she waved her other over it. The bruised knuckles glowed with a warm gold light and when it had faded his hand was fine and he was staring rapturously at it.

“Better?”

He poked the space between his knuckles. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“I’d hope not.”

“Could you heal other people? Like everyone at the hospital?” 

He seemed so excited and it ached to tell him the truth. “No. I couldn’t,” she said simply.

Henry tried to back away—horror freezing his features, but Regina grabbed his just healed hand and held on tight. He had to understand—for some reason that was vital. “My magic isn’t meant to heal Henry. It’s not that kind.”

“You mean it’s **bad** magic.” That was the children at school in his voice. And the book usually kept in his bag. That was **knowing** but only a fraction of truths.

“No.” Hers was a cold magic. Like standing on a mountain and sucking in a bitter wind. It was wrath honed and wielded with all the passion and empathy bound up tight and sharpened to a point. “It’s…” She struggled to find the one series of words that could make him look at her not with the revulsion already distorting his features, but with wonder again. “It’s—“

The door slammed open and Snow stumbled into the apartment. “Henry,” she cried, “I heard what happened and I—Regina?” She stopped short, “What…what are you doing here?”

She dropped Henry’s hand like it burned and threw the chocolate into a copper plated pan that should have been too expensive for Mary Margaret to afford. “Talking to my son.” She could have gone and gotten the milk out of the refrigerator, but instead she called it to her and poured a generous amount into the pan with the chocolate. “Shouldn’t you be at the school yammering about bird houses?”

Snow paused for a fraction of a second, and cold familiar anger lanced across her features. Then it vanished. “I took the rest of the day off when I heard what happened.” She frowned and looked around the room, “Where’s Emma?”

“Work.” She conjured a whisk and began stirring. “You just took off? Is there any child you **won’t** abandon?”

“Regina…” Her voice was low and vaguely threatening.

“Whatever you do don’t have any more. I don’t think the state can afford to care for them all.”

“Mom.”

“Why are you **attacking** me? I **just** came home to check on my grandson.”

She snorted, “Really? If you were so concerned why didn’t you tell Emma or I about the other incidents?”

That struck her. “It was handled.” 

The chocolate was melting quickly. Clouding up the milk before blending together. “Henry being in a fight today says otherwise.” 

“He wouldn’t have been in the fight, and those children wouldn’t be saying those things if **you** weren’t in his life.”

“Grams!”

“Me? **I’m** the problem? I told you a secret once. One that meant lives lost and you loosened those lips like you’re a girl on fleet week. My **son** has a secret that could be very easily solved by either of his mothers and you—“

“Kept his secret! I **learn** from my mistakes Regina. The same can’t be said for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Snow jutted her chin out and her lip wobbled with emotion.

Regina could smell the chocolate. Melted and blended with the milk and scorched too hot. Too rich and thick for her stomach  too. At least at the moment. She waved carelessly over her shoulder and it poured itself into the two big mug. Whipped cream was conjured from the air and she sprinkled cinnamon on top, sliding it towards Henry.

“Well,” she asked. “What mistakes have I failed to learn from?” She smiled nastily, a flare of something old and comfortable lighting up inside of her. “Besides not killing you when I had the chance?”

A mug clattered loudly on a countertop. 

“You need to leave,” Snow said, her eyes hard.

“Not without Henry.” It was reflex.

“Mom. Please.” Was that the first time he’d spoken? He was sitting at the counter looking very much like the boy that had rejected her every overture. All the revulsions she’d tried to smooth away was back as he lifted his chin assuredly—just like his awful “grandmother.” 

“Henry,” she tried to smile. To soften her voice. To fix whatever had just bubbled up and out between her and Snow.

“Grams didn’t say anything because I begged her not to.” 

“Why?”

“Because they **hate** you Mom.” His eyes were hard too.

“Henry—“

“They talk about how you should be killed. Or in jail. That I can’t be good if **you’re** my mom.”

“All the more reason I should help. I **am** good now.” Another Emma’s bright green eyes looked at her with such defeat. Reminding her of the cost of goodness.

Snow barked in amusement. “Stopping Cora and helping Emma doesn’t make you good Regina.”

“Nor does being a holier than thou princess,” she lashed out, “but you **cling** to the concept like religion.”

“I **am** good.”

“You **were**. Your heart’s all gone now Snow. And I suspect that feels colder than anything inside of me.”

The pain on her face was, as always, a hot balm warming the coolness inside of Regina.

And Henry’s voice was small. Tiny above the blood roaring in her ears. “A good person wouldn’t have said that.” 

Wouldn’t they have? Good people told the truth, always. And Regina knew the truth. She’d had her own heart plucked from her chest once too. It was something that went beyond being good or evil or any kind of magic.

It was just the cold.

 

####

There wasn’t much murder to investigate. But Emma holed up in her office until well after six, staring at crime scene photos and googling every Peter Tamlin she could find a second, third, and fourth time.

She hated just **waiting**. It wasn’t in her system to sit still and hope the bird network worked or the nuns talked or Whale tried to vivisect the living or the killer showed up on her doorstep with a neat little confession.

It made her twitchy, and the cool touch of the locket around her neck, radiating Regina’s displeasure, made it worse.

David ducked in fifteen after six, knocking lightly on the door frame. “You holing up for the night?”

She pouted, “Think I could get away with it?”

“Do you want the dad answer or the deputy answer?”

“Which one gives me what I want?”

He looked very seriously at her until she sighed. “Fine.”

“Talk to your mother?”

“Should I have?”

“She found Regina making hot cocoa with Henry. No punches were thrown, but there were words.”

Emma groaned, “God. Can they just—why even!”

“They’re trying,” he said—with way too much sympathy for either woman. 

“How bad was it?”

“Some shouting. A lot of crying. Not many people can savage Mary Margaret quite like Regina.” 

The woman **did** have a knack.

“And Henry?”

“He punched another kid, got suspended and now everyone’s fighting.”

Shit. How the hell was she supposed to deal with that? Henry was probably blaming himself. Mary Margaret was **definitely** blaming herself. Emma was even blaming **her** self. She did, after all, have a temper, and she had been known, on occasion, to punch people.

But Henry was a **kid** and he’d punched another kid. A kid for thirty years, but a **kid** still.

She sighed and grabbed her coat. 

“We headed home?”

“No, you are. I got to go talk with Regina.”

“Not Henry?”

“Right now the kid probably thinks we all hate each other because of him.” David frowned. “Which isn’t true, but if I show up and say otherwise, without his mom there, it’s gonna be an issue.”

“You don’t have to consult her on everything Emma. **You’re** his mom too. He’ll listen to you.”

“Yeah, but here’s the thing, what good is me telling him he screwed up when he’s got the evil queen flinging lawn gnomes across town and making him hot chocolate? We can’t go undermining each other. It’s bad for the kid.”

David then did something very **paternal** , and because it was paternal it surprised Emma, who’d grown accustomed to him being the cool one while Mary Margaret sent her mom eyes.

He tilted her chin up. Gently. And usually it bothered her when someone touched her without permission. Especially when it was a guy.

But it didn’t bother her when he did it.

And he looked her in the eye with that one good eye and his lips sort of spread into a smile, and there was a lot there. A lot of **stuff**. Stuff she didn’t want to understand and stuff he was never gonna say. Stuff related to regrets and other lives and everything lost. And while Mary Margaret **would** say it, he was always optimistic and supportive. He didn’t speak out like a dad.

So when it all hit, all the fatherly affection and longing and sorrow, it slammed into her. Taking her breath away.

“You’re a great mom, Emma.”

And what was sort of a smile became a definite smile.

She’d never had someone be so selflessly proud of her before.

Ever.

It really made it hard to breathe.

 

####

He’d never told Mary Margaret she was a great mom. At least in earshot.

She’d never heard him say that to anyone.

“Great.” How was she great when her kid was punching people and she’d had him when she was a teenager. In prison.

She was the opposite of great, and Regina, with her fancy house and lack of a criminal record, at least in this land, was what a mom was supposed to be.

Emma could smell cheese and tomato baking as she came up the steps to Regina’s house. Warm light shone out of the windows and smoke streamed up out of the chimney. Someone had even brushed the fallen leaves off the sidewalk and trimmed the hedges.

This was great.

No. Emma mentally slapped herself.

Regina Mills was not a great mom. She got the job done. But she screwed up. Its why they could handle each other. They both kind of had moments of being not so hot in the maternity department.

Difference being outside of Storybrooke Regina was great, and inside the city lines, dead beat mom Emma was the great one.

She jammed one hand into her back pocket and knocked with the other.

Light flooded the stoop when Regina opened the door. She’d upgraded from current Regina wear, which was tasteful suits and the odd pair of designer jeans paired with tailored blazers, to a Mayor Regina gray dress that clung to her body so tightly Emma had to wonder how she breathed.

She was barefoot though.

And wearing a black apron that had distinct signs of ironing on it.

And there was a brush of flour on one cheek.

Woman was wearing a costume but the real her was peeking out anyways.

“Come to scold me,” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Dinner actually. Mary Margaret is trying to expand everyone’s horizons with Japanese food and her nori's soggy.”

Regina narrowed her eyes.

Emma smiled. It felt apologetic.

“Do I look like Granny?”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t run a restaurant. If you want dinner go somewhere else.”

“Only make enough for one?”

Regina blushed.

Regina never blushed.

"Lecture me Emma. Go ahead. I haven't got all night."

"Fine. I will."

She pushed her way past a startled Regina. 

"I didn't say come in."

"And I don't want to freeze outside and embarrass you in front of the neighbors." The house smelled **really** good and Emma's stomach noisily agreed.

"Where would you like to start? How I made Snow cry?"

"How about where you reward our son for punching someone?”

"He was defending my honor."

"He's twelve! The only thing he should be defending is his bathroom time in that one bedroom apartment we call a home!"

Regina scoffed. Honest to God **scoffed** and headed towards the kitchen. "I really don't see what the problem is. By all accounts you yourself were a rough and tumble child. Why should Henry punching someone bother you?"

"What if he were a girl and punched someone?"

Regina froze.

"Yeah. Hey double standard! My name's Regina."

"This is…you're upset because he's a **boy**?"

"And you're not upset for the same damn reason."

"That's not true." She snatched a large hand towel off the counter and bent to check whatever was in the oven. "If he was Henrietta I still wouldn't have a problem with him punching that girl."

"For saying the truth."

"For antagonizing a child."

"Kids will be—"

"Don't you dare." She slammed the oven shut and rounded on Emma. "Don't you dare say this is just a little fun between children. That girl made a calculated move to harm **our** son and he fought back."

"With his **fists**. He keeps that up and I won't be the only jailbird in the family."

She threw her hands up, "He's not gonna wind up in jail. His mothers are the sheriff and the **mayor**."

"Yeah. Bailing him out of every problem in life. **That's** the ticket to good parenting." She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

"You're telling **me** how to parent? What do you know?"

It was a low blow and Emma could see Regina's eyes widen a fraction just after she said it. It lessened the sting, but not enough to ignore the comment.

"A lot," Emma said evenly. "Like how the biggest bully in any school was the one getting bailed out by their parents. You think I got this scar in a prison fight?" She pointed at the scar above her eye.

Technically it was from a skateboarding accident when she was fourteen. But the asshole she crashed into **had** been a Richie Rich son of a bitch and her foster parents **had** had to pay for a new skateboard for the guy. That was the last set of "parents" she had.

Until now.

The retort was enough to knock Regina off her high and mighty war horse. She deflated quickly, digging her fingers into the granite countertop and hunching her shoulders. "Sorry," she said, not making eye contract. "That was—"

"Mean? Rude? Condescending?"

She frowned, "I'm not the only condescending one in this kitchen."

Emma smirked, “Yeah but I back it up with moral righteousness."

Regina rolled her eyes.

"You know I'm right," Emma said with a playful smile.

"No, I don't." She stood up straight. "But try and convince me."

She eyed her suspiciously, "How?"

Regina motioned to the oven with her towel. "Over dinner."

"You serious?"

Regina smiled and raised one eyebrow.

"Thought you weren't a restaurant?"

"Offer expires in three. Two."

"Fine."

"Good."

Regina leaned back against the counter. Emma jammed her hands in her back pockets.

Silence descended.

"You made an executive decision today," Regina said. Again not making eye contact.

"I was trying to get us out of there."

"And now Henry has a week's suspension on his record. If it had been any other child at the school they would have had a day. Maybe two. They gave him a week because he's **my** son."

"Maybe. Or maybe because he punched that kid so hard he bruised his hand and her face."

"That's what happens when you punch someone."

 

####

"You ever punch someone?”

"Besides you," Regina asked. She remembered the exact moment she'd decided punching Emma Swan in the face would be a good idea. It, like the rest of that night, would stew inside of her always.

But Emma had her mouth set. "I'm serious. Punching someone is…violent. And to do that. To physically hurt someone like that takes a helluva lot of anger."

"That you and I both have in spades. I’m well aware."

"Right. You and I. Not Henry. I want Henry to be a lot of things, but I don't want him to be us Regina. He can't be."

She felt her hackles rise again and tried to keep her temper from flaring too badly. “And we’re— **I’m** so bad?”

“No,” Emma sighed. “I mean, yes. See the Curse. But you and I are the way we are because our lives have been hell and we survived them. I don’t want my son to be a survivor.”

She lifted her chin—ready to tell Emma that was **exactly** what she wanted Henry to be. She wanted him to survive every obstacle and grow stronger.

But Emma continued. “I don’t want him wrestling with the stuff we had to wrestle with. The way I see it his biggest issue needs to be wondering if we hug hard enough. You know?”

She was so damned earnest.

And innocent.

 

####

Regina came around the counter and leaned her back against it, facing off with Emma and giving her the softest damn look she'd ever seen.

"You want to protect him."

Soft and full of emotions that made Emma want to look away even as she couldn't escape them. Not with the liquid heat unspooling from the center of the locket.

"Yeah."

"I do too."

"Then why encourage him?"

"The world isn't nice—"

"I know—"

"It isn't nice Emma, and I—we have to deal with that. Henry already is. This is his way of dealing. And I won't tell him no just because that toad of a principal dislikes me."

"I guess I get wanting him to deal, but he's not always gonna be the shortest kid in his grade. One day he's gonna be an adult, and he's gonna be a guy, I want him to be a **good** guy. A good guy doesn't deal with the world through violence."

"Charming does—"

"David used to kill orcs or whatever. But in this world, Henry's the son of a mayor. He’s well off, educated, white and a **guy**. **This** world is gonna spend all its time telling him he can do whatever he wants. It's up to **us** to make sure he knows he can't."

Regina had to understand that. Emma could handle a lot. She could get behind spoiling the kid and she'd die before she let another punk at that school bully him, but she wasn't gonna raise a son who hurt people.

Henry had to be better then them. He had to use his words and guile and prove that the world wasn't always better because of violence. And he had to be the guy she'd never known in all those years. The exception to the rule of awful men.

He **had** to be.

Regina was studying her. Her lips pursed and her eyes drinking Emma in.

"Okay," she said. Only Emma wasn't sure if she was agreeing or just saying what she needed to hear. She switched gears quickly—before Emma could ask. "Dinner's almost ready. Mind opening the wine?"

Two bottles of a Napa Valley Cabernet were sitting beneath a cupboard Emma hoped had wine glasses in it—because Regina was too busy at the oven to actually tell Emma where stuff was.

Thankfully she found the glasses and found the corkscrew in the drawer beneath the countertop. She yanked the cork out and set it neatly by the bottle before pouring two liberal glasses.

"What's with all the wine. Expecting me?"

Regina's ears turned as red as the wine in Emma's hand.

She drew a platter of lasagna out of the oven. It was enough food for six people. At least. Same with the bread she took out of the top oven. Thick slabs of sourdough bubbling with roasted garlic and butter.

"Or expecting an army?"

"I was just making dinner," Regina said, and for once she seemed…uneasy.

"This is enough for half the town."

"It is not."

"I mean, was some of it planned for leftovers?"

The pause just before she answered meant that the "yes" was a total lie. While Emma very much wanted to tease Regina about her apparent plan to binge eat her feelings she was also aware of how she'd been dealing with her own feelings that day by staring at pictures of dead bodies and refusing to talk to anyone.

If Regina wanted to put away half an Olive Garden all on her own Emma wasn't gonna judge.

Much.

"Well it smells **great** ," she said enthusiastically.

"And it **is** great. Everyone who's ever had this lasagna agrees it's tremendously better than that dreck Granny serves."

"Woah hey. Defensive much?"

"People think she's the best cook in town."

"That's just because she charges three dollars for a hamburger, fries and a shake. You could serve styrofoam at that price and get good reviews."

"I'll keep that in mind if I want to poison everyone.”

"Bright side is I'll know who the murderer is.”

Regina smiled. "Would you get the plates out from over the bread box."

It was so domestic Emma's teeth hurt. She had to take a healthy swig of her wine just to diffuse the gooey feelings on her insides.

Regina served up huge slices of lasagna that dripped with a thick béchamel sauce and chunks of roasted meat and tomatoes. She did a quick shaving of parmesan over both without even asking and motioned for Emma to take them to the dining room.

Channeling six months of waitressing she'd done straight out of prison Emma put both plates on one arm and used her other to grab the wine bottle and her own wine glass.

Places hadn't been set at the dining room table—which gave Emma the image of Regina consuming the whole platter of lasagna alone on the couch—so she arbitrarily chose two spots and set the plates down.

Regina joined her with the bread, bundled up in a towel and paused—taking in the seating arrangements.

She must not have been offended because she dropped the bread onto the table and took a seat in front of one plate.

"Shouldn’t we have fo—"

Regina snapped and forks, knives and napkins shot out of the buffet behind Emma. One butter knife nearly whinging her elbow. 

"Jesus!"

"I keep telling you that's not my name."

"Clearly not. Jesus does not nearly impale people with butter knives."

"You dodged," she demurred and took a sip of her wine. "Oo. This is delicious."

"Is there no limit to your arrogance?"

Regina shrugged, "I've no idea. We can always find out." She took a huge bite of lasagna and sighed. "Perfection."

Emma took her seat reluctantly, chancing a glance back at the buffet to look for more flying cutlery.

"You're safe," Regina said, not looking up for her dinner.

The assurance, to Emma's surprise, was enough. She took a bite of lasagna and, if pressed, at gun point, she'd agree it was heads and tails better than what Granny served.

"See," Regina said.

"I do," Emma's mouth responded. Sans gun point.

Her mouth was a dirty dirty traitor—

Enjoying delicious, delicious lasagna. 

"What do you do?"

"Red pepper is my 'secret' ingredient. But the real secret is fat. Makes everything taste better."

Regina took another bite and clearly stopped herself from moaning in ecstasy at her own cooking.

"Okay, I gotta ask,” Emma sipped her wine, “how can you put all this away? If I ate like this most nights I'd be so bloated and chunky they'd mistake me for Humpty Dumpty."

"You have more hair."

A lot more hair. Humpty looked like Sloth from Goonies with his little patch of red on an otherwise bare scalp. "Seriously," she insisted, "What's the deal?"

Regina set her fork down and fiddled with the base of her wine glass. "The 'deal' is magic burns a lot of calories."

"So you eat because you can or because you have to?"

"Both I suppose. But it started because I could. My mother was," she winced, "demanding about what I put in my body. When she moved away—"

When Regina shoved her through a mirror to escape her Mommie Dearest act.

"I suppose I just started eating to prove to myself I could. Then when I realized how food and magic were related it seemed a bit like fate."

"And during the curse?"

"Time was frozen. Why waste immortality and a perpetually perfect figure on **salad**?"

Regina Mills was a woman after Emma's own heart, and knowing that magic burned calories, Emma took another hearty bite of lasagna and washed it down with more wine.

 

####

Laughter was an uncommon sound in the Mills home. Particularly before and after Henry. Usually there was only silence. Regina eschewing television, films, and even the radio. Instead she worked with only the tick tock of the clock for company.

But that night laughter bounced off the walls and was caught up in the crackling fire as she and Emma drank large glasses of wine that unfurled in her center. Soothing her frustrations and erasing her worries.

"I'm serious," Emma laughed. "The guy thought he could talk to squirrels."

"Outside the town?"

"I was in Florida! He kept running out on his bail and I kept finding him buck naked talking to squirrels in the park."

"Maybe he was from our land," Regina said. "Like the emperor who used to walk around naked."

"Yeah, that guy still does that you know. I keep getting calls complaining about him gardening in the buff." She shuddered. "Way too much bending over at the waist."

"I am truly sorry."

"You're not the one accidentally giving him a colon exam."

"He wasn't always that crazy."

"No?"

"He's actually—well he's technically my uncle."

Emma stopped sipping her wine. The glass pausing at her lips. "Wait. Seriously?"

"I never really knew him. We just saw him for state dinners once a year. One year I’m pretty sure my mother cursed him."

"You think—you don't know?"

"It was almost fifty years ago now. Before—the nudity I mean—he was much like his father. Stern." She sipped her own wine, letting the taste push back the bile that rose with memories of her father's family. "Unkind. He and my mother argued more than usual and—"

"He got a little loopy and stopped wearing pants."

"Essentially."

"Could you fix him?"

"The question isn't could I, but should I. He was as bad as my mother when it came to appearances. This way he's," she frowned, “this way is probably better for everyone."

"Except him."

"He was the one that gave my father the idea to marry me off to Bluebeard, and I assure you, he knew full well what the man was."

Emma refilled Regina's glass without asking and then topped off her own. "Well, I guess then here's to Cora doing something not awful for a change."

Regina raised her glass, "To my mother. The accidental hero."

 

####

The fourth bottle of wine snuck up on Emma. She seemed a little looser than normal and then suddenly she was sprawled out on the couch, her bare feet on the coffee table and her head resting on Regina Mill's shoulder.

And she didn't care. She lifted her glass and Regina filled it. Regina expanding on the expansive branches of her family tree took them both on a journey through the third bottle of wine, and by the fourth it  had led them back to a stable boy. 

Emma couldn't see all of Regina's face from her position on her shoulder. Just the firelight reflected in thoughtful eyes.

"What was he like," she asked.

And Regina eyebrows knit together in a frown. "Too kind," she said. "Too trusting."

"I mean the guy. Was he funny? Dumb? Did he have hobbies?"

That earned her a small smile, and warmth from the locket as fond memories washed over Regina and lapped at the edges of Emma's mind.

"He was silly, in the best of ways. And far too serious. And besides horseback riding he liked working with his hands."

Emma smirked.

"Leather-working," Regina said. Only she wasn't being defensive. It was a playful scolding.

"Neal used to make bracelets." 

She hadn't thought of him in years. And now she could see him sitting cross legged on a bed in a moldy hotel room, in shorts and a sleeveless shirt carefully braiding millimeter thick strips of leather together. They weren't the pieces made by kids at camp, but true works of art.

"Neal?"

"Henry's—"

Regina stiffened. "Oh."

"He'd sell them to tourists. Say he was Native American or something." He liked to slap a turquoise stone on them and a piece of tin polished like silver. Didn't matter how good the leather-working was. The silver and the polished stones were what sold them.

"He sounds…"

"He was a con artist Regina. A really, really good con artist."

"And he died?"

Emma glanced up again and Regina looked down at her bashfully. "Sorry. Henry mentioned it when you first came here."

"Henry thinks his birth dad is a fireman who knocked up a 17 year old girl and died heroically saving…kittens or something. I'd rather he think that then know he was a con artist that knocked up a 17 year old girl and then left her holding the bag when the cops showed up."

"I suppose."

She slumped in her seat, laying her head on top of Emma's. If either of them had been more sober they would have been appalled by the contact. Or at least extremely flustered.

Instead it was pleasant.

Welcomed.

"Did you love him?"

"I did." And she'd been paying for that love ever since. Besides Henry the lesson Neal had taught her had been the only worthwhile thing she'd ever gotten from him.

Never, ever, fall in love. It made you stupid.

"Sometimes I think I still do."

"How?"

"How do you love your mom? Some people just get under your skin you know? Whether you want them there or not."

"Like a cancer."

Emma laughed bitterly, "Sure. They're irritating, potentially fatal, and sometimes you have to cut yourself open just to get rid of them."

"Exactly."

"I wish I could get rid of him. I try to forget him, but he was a lot of firsts for me." First love. First family. First betrayal.

Worst betrayal.

Regina looked down again, "Do you see him? In Henry?"

She saw his mischievous smile and the way his nose was just a little too big for his face. But, "No. I see his mom."

"Political answer," she noted dryly.

"I'm drinking her wine. Should at least be polite."

"I'm serious Emma."

At some point Regina's hand had fallen onto Emma's knee and she drew warm patterns with her forefinger and thumb.

It drew the words out of her. As if by magic.

"I mean, I see bits of him in Henry maybe. But you probably see bits of Mary Margaret in me. We're always gonna look for what we know. But really," she looked up at Regina. They really had had too much wine. It made her head swim and made bad ideas seem good. "Really he's your son. Through and through."

Regina's searched Emma's face. As though she was trying to to figure out if Emma was telling the truth or taking advantage of all the wine they’d shared.

She rested her cheek against the top of Emma’s head. “Thank you.”

“We’ve had too much to drink haven’t we?”

“Mm hmm.” They watched the fire in silence. Sipping their wine and enjoying the warmth they each provided.

Regina finished hers first and slapped Emma’s leg. “Come on. We need to get up.”

“What,” she whined.

Regina snatched her glass and set it on the coffee table then offered her hands. “This will be neat.”

“Neat?”

Regina pulled, and because she was a sorceress magically imbued with more strength then her slight figure would bely Emma went catapulting up and let herself be dragged up the stairs.

“Uh. Regina. I’m flattered but—“

“Shut up.”

Emma’s mouth snapped shut.

Regina guided her down the hall past her bedroom and pulled down the stairs to the attic.

“Where are we going,” Emma stage whispered.

“The roof.”

“You think climbing on the roof while drunk is a good idea?”

Regina had just started to climb the stairs and snapped around, looking down into Emma’s eyes. “Do you trust me?”

And to her own surprise, Emma quietly said, “Yes.”

In the attic Regina climbed out a window and offered her hand. Emma took it carefully, and followed her out onto the roof. Regina’s steps were sure—liked she’d made this exact trek hundreds of times before.

They carefully climbed up until they were on the apex, and Regina straddled it assuredly.

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve done this before,” Emma asked.

She was stuck at about knee level and a little wobbly, but she refused to reach for Regina’s leg. She knew she’d end up feeling like a pinup on a fantasy novel cover.

“It’s a good view of the town,” Regina opined.

“It’s **cold**.”

“No, come here,” she offered her hand and tugged Emma up so they were standing together. She stomped her feet, “brace yourself with your magic. Like there are anchors in your shoes.”

Emma tried to picture anchors and suddenly standing on a roof a little drunk didn’t feel as unsafe as it had. 

“I normally wouldn’t do this—this,” Regina hiccuped, or burped, or just swallowed. God they were drunk. “Inebriated, but we have magic now.” She smiled. It lit up her whole face.

The butterflies Emma had had for being drunk on a **roof** remained for wholly different reasons. She gulped. “Yeah.”

“Look though. You can see everything.”

Regina pointed and Emma followed her finger. She was right. The whole town was splayed out before them. The glow of street lamps holding back the darkness.

“But what’s really interesting is right here.” She scooted them forward. “The magic is weak in this spot. I noticed it about two years in.”

They were at the edge of the roof and Emma had no desire to ask her how she’d found the specific point.

“You can see outside the barrier. Technically this is the middle of nowhere so the stars. They’re different.”

She turned her head up to look at the sky. The stars **were** different. It was like looking at a hologram. Two images, one on top of the other. A dark cloudless sky where only the brightest stars could shine above the town’s light. And another. Thousands of points of white light floating in the darkness. The whole of a heaven she wasn’t even sure she believed in.

Regina spun around, drunk and happy and smiling. “It’s amazing isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Emma croaked, her voice—her whole body failing her.

The corners of Regina’s mouth fell. Just a fraction.

Not because she was upset. But because something began to pass between them. A moment of absolute seriousness that cut through the haze. 

She was looking at Emma’s lips, she realized. And then her nose. Her cheeks. Her eyes. Then her palm was pressed into Emma’s jaw and her fingers were at her hairline and they were sharing a kiss. There wasn’t stilted flirting or unsaid attraction.

Just that kiss. 

Sure lips pressed against her own. The cool touch of her mouth. Then the cool touch of a tongue and the gasp that meant it wasn’t a drunk grapple to be forgotten in the morning. But something real.

Permanent.

Terrifying.

Wonderful.

She pushed back enough to end it and pressed her forehead to Regina’s before she could protest.

“I can’t,” she panted.

Regina was breathing just as fast, her breath sour from the wine.

“I’m not…I’m not ready for a relationship,” Emma said.

“It doesn’t have—“

“It would.” She dared look into Regina’s eyes, the contact never broken. “With you. Now. It would.”

Regina’s fingers clung to Emma’s hair. She was trying—trying not to let it show. “Is it,” she swallowed, “because of him?”

Neal. The guy she’d love.

The guy who ruined her. 

“No. Right now I need to be a mom. And a daughter. And a sheriff. I don’t have—I can’t.”

Regina was trying not to cry and she smiled and nodded, before pressing a gentle kiss on the corner of Emma’s mouth. “I understand. But…”

“What,” Emma whispered.

“I can’t wait. It’s not…” Regina closed her eyes.

“I know.”

They separated with an awkward smile.

The kiss had been sobering and shattered the pleasant if foggy evening they’d shared. They both climbed back into the house with none of the stumbling clumsiness they’d climbed out with. 

They’d arrived at an understanding, and as Emma helped Regina into the house she felt…okay.

Neither were ignoring what had happened, but they weren’t letting it weigh on them. They went down the stairs and Regina dealt with the wine glasses while Emma fluffed the couch, and then they did the dishes together.

Regina walked Emma to the door and leaned against it after opening it.

“I had fun,” Emma said, rocking back on her heels and keeping her hands busy in her pockets.

And the small smile that graced her lips said Regina had too. Emma started to turn but Regina reached out to stop her. Cupping her cheek in her hand.

“Be careful?”

“Yeah. And look if you need—“

“I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl Emma.”

Right. “Right. Okay. So. Tomorrow? I guess you and I and Henry should have a sit down.”

“I’ll be there first thing.”

Emma nodded, then caught herself when she went in for a hug. Regina recognized the catch and kept smiling that bittersweet smile of hers before stepping away and shutting the door and leaving Emma all alone out in the cold.

Up above the stars were just the ones from Storybrooke. Half lost in the light. But she knew, just beyond, was the real sky.

And it was breathtaking.

 

####

Morning came too soon. Grey light filtered in through the windows and cast the whole loft in a sullen shade. Henry was asleep on his stomach, his mouth half opened and below Emma could hear David cooking breakfast and Mary Margaret and him speaking in low voices.

She rolled out of bed and prepared for the sudden rush of nausea that usually came from too much wine. But instead it was just the normal head rush from sitting up too fast. She squinted and carefully stood and tried to figure out if maybe, possibly, she was still a little drunk.

She felt loose limbed enough. Stretching, all kinds of parts of her popped and when she stood up she had to stifle a groan.

Henry fidgeted in his sleep and opened his eyes, “Mom?”

“Time for breakfast,” she whispered.

He nodded and rolled over, curling up in a ball and throwing the sheets over his head.

Emma made her way downstairs under the wary eyes of both parental figures, who watched from the kitchen with matching mugs of coffee in their hands.

“You were out late,” David said.

Mary Margaret followed up with a “Very late.” 

“Regina and I talked.”

“About?”

About Henry and family and long lost loves and two sets of stars twinkling in the sky. “How we’re gonna deal with the kid.”

“For eight hours?”

“It was very involved,” she grumbled, and pressed her palms into her eyes. “She’s probably on her way over now so we can tag team this mess.”

“Here,” Mary Margaret said, “I really wish—“

“Don’t worry. She knows that she could have been better yesterday. Who knows, she might even apologize.”

David snorted into his coffee then turned his back on them to fiddle with the eggs on the stovetop.

“My mom’s coming,” Henry asked from the top of the stairs. 

“Yeah kid. The three of us are going to have a little tete a tete about punching people.”

“But—“

“It’s one of the few things Regina and I agree on. So get excited.”

Realizing he was well and truly screwed Henry’s shoulders sagged and he stomped down the stairs to his seat at the counter.

The three adults shared a cautious look and Mary Margaret leaned away from him, taking her coffee with her.

When Emma heard the knock at the door she hopped off her stool and dashed to it. 

It was funny.

She didn’t get excited about seeing people.

And she **really** didn’t get excited about the hard parenting stuff like she knew was ahead.

But she was excited about seeing her.

It gave her pause as her hand reached the doorknob.

When did Regina stop being the enemy and start being the friend?

The…

She yanked the door opened just as the visitor raised their hand to knock again.

But it wasn’t Regina, with a familiar smile and resolute gaze.

It was Gold. He grinned savagely.

“Sheriff Swan. You owe me a favor. I’ve come to collect.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I never ever ever ever planned on there being this long a wait between chapters. Sorry about that. If you’re like me you might want to re-read the last chapter for a refresher. Bonus it is loaded with almost kisses. And remember, love it or hate it, feedback gives fic writers life!

There wasn’t time for “how about no.” Hell, there wasn’t even time for a phone call. Gold actually stood there in the door way, cane clasped in hid hands, and waited for her to get ready so they could immediately leave. He tapped his goddamned foot. ****

And he smirked. One of those irritating shit eating grin kind of smirks that rankled Emma more than about anything else on the planet.

It dropped into a scowl just long enough to tell a confused Henry to mind his own business, and then rose back into a self satisfied smile.

“I should call Regina,” Emma said.

“She’ll figure it out,” Gold replied calmly—his jaw barely moving.

“Yeah, but we were supposed to—“ Gold tilted his head in curiosity and at the kitchen counter Mary Margaret leaned forward nosily. “Fine. I’ll call her on the road.”

“We’re leaving now,” Henry asked. He’d come all the way down from the lost and was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. But he wasn’t too tired to invite himself on their road trip. 

She glanced at David and Mary Margaret, who were both suddenly very busy **not** being helpful. “No,” she sighed. “Mr. Gold and I are leaving. You’re staying here and thinking about how wrong it is to punch people.”

“But—“

She’d never been on the receiving end of a really good maternal glare but she figured she could give one. Henry’s mouth snapped shut—cutting off a petulant whine and Emma resisted the urge to preen.

Yeah, she could definitely give good mom glare.

“Besides, your mom will be by soon and someone needs to her where I went.”

“I can do that,” David said without thinking.

“ **Henry** will do it. Right kid?”

“I’d be more use to you and Mr Gold. You’re looking for his son right? Who better to use than me! I found you when I was **ten**.”

He found her because he stole Mary Margaret’s credit card and paid a sketchy online service way too much money. “You did,” she sighed, “but right now you’re busy being grounded for what happened yesterday.”

“But we’re supposed to go to Boston together!”

“Ms. Swan,” Gold growled, his patience waning.

She squatted down in front of her son. “We’re definitely going to Boston together. But when it’s just the two of us and we can have fun. What Gold and I are doing **won’t** be fun. So can you help out? Can you stay here?”

His jaw locked and he looked just like his other mother for a second. But he nodded.

“Good, you’ve mollified the boy, now may we leave?”

She shot a good glare at Gold. “Let me just get my jacket,” she growled.

Being an all powerful super evil imp or whatever the hell he was Gold was unfazed.

 

####

Regina didn’t rest. She didn’t even try.

Instead, while Emma went home to sleep, Regina drove forty minutes beyond the city limits and bought sixteen of the best cider donuts made without magic.

She’d discovered the place her tenth year in Storybrooke, when boredom and wanderlust had driven her out of the town and into the surrounding countryside. The place was a worn little shop nestled into a worn little strip mall that had looked old even back in 1993. The woman at the counter didn’t react to Regina’s curiously numbered order, just tossed her a cup for her coffee and went to the back to box the donuts.

That was the other reason she used to come. Outside of Storybrooke she was anonymous, and while the sensation—the loneliness of it—was unpleasant, it had been different. A change of pace from a town perfectly constructed to please **her**.

She hadn’t bothered to come to the donut shop in years. Certainly not after Henry. And Emma. 

On her way back she passed Rumpel’s ancient land yacht slowly cruising towards the city line—presumably so he could test his curse-proof method in and out of town. 

She sent up a vague wish to higher powers that his attempt would fail and Emma or Mulan would find him stranded in the woods miles away with no memories of ever being a gold-flecked imp who manipulated a whole line of women just so he could hitch a ride to another world to find his son.

Maybe he’d lose his memories, crash his car and just…die.

Yes. That’d be nice.

The fresh donuts filled her entire car with a heavenly aroma, overpowering the smell from the mug of coffee between her thighs. She only made it through three donuts before getting to Emma’s apartment. She polished off a fourth climbing the stairs. 

She’d been using her magic constantly since getting back to the “real” Storybrooke and was finding that her already normally high intake of food wasn’t nearly enough. Maybe it was some residual affect of absorbing Hermes’ helmet. Or annhiliting a time line. Or Gold’ stupid knife. Whatever it was her magic was burning more calories than an hour on a Stairmaster and a constant intake of high calorie food was the only thing between her and a whole new wardrobe.

She’d gotten rather fond of the one she’d had for twenty-eight years and wasn’t in a rush to replace it just because the whole damn town needed her rescuing it ever other minute. Cracking the box of donuts open and holding it before her like a gift, Regina raised her free hand and knocked three times. 

There was a shuffle and muffled cursing before David through the door open.

“Regina,” he said breathlessly.

Like he was surprised.

She tried not to be annoyed. Instead opting for what she thought was a polite smile but what nine out of ten people told her was a malevolent one. “David.” She offered the donuts. “I brought breakfast.” 

“Oh,” he rubbed at the back of his neck like his daughter often did. “Yeah. We already ate. About an hour ago.”

When did everyone in town start getting up so early—“Well, hopefully you saved room. Can I come in?” 

She knew better than to wait for his answer and pushed past him, dropping the box into his hands. 

Snow was standing at the counter with her fat mug of tea held in front of her face. Her eyes were as big as the plate her lone piece of toast lay on. She spluttered, “Regina.”

“Oh don’t worry dear. I don’t verbally eviscerate enemies this early in the morning. You’re safe.”

David smoothly stepped between them, “What are you doing here?”

“Sight seeing,” she said sharply. “What on earth do you think? Emma and I are parenting our son this morning. You didn’t see it in your day planner?” 

He looked over his shoulder, sharing a long look with his wife.

“What,” Regina said, trying not to let her quickly diminishing patience color her words more than they already had. In fact she was a little surprised. Usually Emma would have stepped in before the dayplanner crack.

“She didn’t call you,” Snow asked, her voice pitching high at  the end like she full well **knew** Emma hadn’t.

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. Where **was** Emma anyways?

“She got called away,” David said. “She…owed Gold a favor and he collected.” And David was furious about it—or as furious as the milquetoast David Nolan **could** be. Snow was angry too, in her tepid Mary Margaret way. At least more angry about that then about Regina being in their home.

Nice to know she was no longer the biggest villain in their lives.

Then her mind spat out that image of Rumpel’s car lumbering towards the town line. “They left Storybrooke?” Not even a call.

“Twenty minutes ago.”

Or a text. 

And now Regina couldn’t chase Emma down at lecture her because she was bound to Storybrooke by her **stupid** deal with the imp. 

“It would have been nice if she’d called,” Regina muttered. She hoped the hurt she was feeling didn’t color her voice.

“Gold didn’t really give her time,” David said. “He didn’t even want us to hug her goodbye.”

“That sounds like him.” She took a deep breath that sent a shiver through her. “But it can’t be helped. Emma’s gone now.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I suppose that means I’ll deal with Henry alone. I assume he’d upstairs?”

“Yeah but—“

She pushed past Charming and ignored Snow’s blustering from the kitchen.

And promptly found that Henry was **not** upstairs, lounging on the bed he shared with Emma and playing a game or looking surly and waiting to be punished.

“I thought you said he was up here,” she shouted down.

“He is,” David shouted back up.

He definitely wasn’t. She called down again and moved around the bed sorting through the cramped closet.

“He’s gone! As is that stupid book **and** his bag.”

“Maybe they’re down here,” Snow called back.

“That doesn’t help with my missing son!”

She dashed back to the staircase and looked down over the rest of the apartment. Snow was on her hands and knees looking under her bed and David was half buried in the downstairs closet—throwing things out over his shoulder as he searched for Henry’s bag.

Snow stopped searching. “You don’t think…”

David stopped too. “No,” he said in disbelief—turning around and staring at his wife wide-eyed. 

Regina had to grab hold of the railing to keep from incinerating the both of them. “What,” she snapped.

“He wanted to go with Emma.”

“And she said no.”

“And you two think that my precocious and industrious son who once ran away to **another state** snuck into the back of Rumpel’s car under his and Emma’s nose?!”

David tilted his head. “That sounds like Henry.”

“It does,” Snow agreed.

Regina sank against the railing. “Yes,” she sighed, “it absolutely does.”

 

####

For a guy that had never driven on anything more than a boring country road in the middle of nowhere Gold drove like a bat out of hell once they hit the highway.

Emma grabbed the pleather wrapped bar over the passenger door to brace herself and noted, “You don’t actually have powers out here, you know that right? We get pulled over for reckless driving and you **can** go to jail.”

Gold’s gold tooth flashed when he snarled at her.

So she quietly buckled her seatbelt, tightened it for good measure, and prayed that there were no cops between Storybrooke and Boston.

They managed to make good time, dodging cops and stopping only when they were a few miles from Logan. Gold was forced to roll into a gas station as the needle hovered on the E.

“You can fill her up,” he growled. Then he crossed his arms and stared out the window, completely unimpressed by his new surroundings.

Also completely unwilling to even pay for gas.

She stared at him.

“Well,” he finally asked, his eyes darting from her to the gas pump.

“This boat’s from 1983. Filling that gas tank would probably bankrupt a small country.”

“And?”

“And I’m not paying for gas.”

“You owe me—“

“A favor. That’s me helping you find your kid. If you wanted me to chip in for gas maybe you should have put it in the contract.”

The only thing more obnoxiously scary than an angry and impatient Gold was an **amused** Gold. “Fine.” With a slight of hand he produced a card.

She peered at the name. “Why do you have Regina’s AME—you know what? I’m not even going to ask.”

“Wise.” He returned his even gaze to the road ahead, telling her the conversation was done.

She muttered and slid out of the car. Boston smelled the exact same as it had before she’d been saddled with a whole family and developed a sort of friendship with an evil queen. So close to the airport it smelled like burnt diesel, with the hint of old fish that she usually smelled closer to the water. The air was **denser** than in Storybrooke. Something she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been hopping between worlds.

Gold leaned on the horn to yank her out of her thoughts. “We don’t have all day,” he called out his window.

She kind of hated him. 

Not enough to grumble or anything. But she shot him what she felt was a very good stink eye before squatting down behind the car to loosen the gas cap. Whoever had screwed it on last had missed a thread and she had to lean in to push and finagle it off. The exertion caused her phone, already precariously perched in her back pocket, to slide out.

It clattered onto the grimy pavement face up, a whole slew of missed calls shining on the screen.

“Oops.”

On cue it started ringing again, Regina’s name flashing up and her anger at being abandoned that morning **wafting** off the phone. It took Emma four rings before she had the wherewithal to answer.

“Phone must have been on silent,” she tried a casual little laugh. “Sorry about that.”

“Are you okay,” Regina asked urgently.

“As okay as you can be on a forced roadtrip with Gold.” She slotted the pump handle into place and squeezed the trigger. “He’s not my first trip for a roadtrip buddy.”

“Is that why you took Henry?”

Emma’s hand froze on the handle. The tank had been empty and she could hear the gas hitting the bottom, like water poured into an empty bucket. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Henry. He’s with you.”

“No…he’s in Storybrooke.”

“No…he’s not.”

“ **You** lost Henry?”

Something in the back of Gold’s car thumped.

“ **I** didn’t lose Henry,” Regina sniped. “ **I** wasn’t the one that shot out of town like a rocket after last night and took our son with them!”

“I didn’t—“ Another thump.

A very specific kind of thump Emma was familiar with because sometimes bounties were too gross to stick in the front of the Bug. When they were covered in vomit or stinky or trying to punch her despite being handcuffed sometimes she threw them in the trunk, where they’d bump against the trunk hood and make that particular noise.

“Hold on.”

No more thumps. She hopped over the gas hose and reached into the car, snatching the keys out of the ignition despite Gold’s protest.

“What is it,” Regina asked—worry still tinging her voice.

“Just,” she grunted as she worked the key into the trunk lock, “a second.”

A twist and it popped open with a creak.

She sighed. Loudly.

“You found him didn’t you,” Regina asked.

Emma reached in and dragged her son up and out of the trunk by the arm. “Yeah, I did.” She dropped his arm and pushed him back against the car, “What the hell kid!”

Regina protested, “Don’t curse—“

“I’ll call you back,” Emma snapped. She jammed her phone back into her pocket and crossed her arms, looming over Henry and hopefully, maybe, putting the fear of God into him. “Thought I told you to stay home.”

“I—“ he started to protest.

She scowled and leaned down. **Loomed** was the word. “In fact I know I did.”

She was close enough to see him swallow. It filled her with immeasurable pride. Her first full on terrifying mom moment. When Regina wasn’t annoyed she might be proud. 

“I can help,” he shouted, sounding like a broken record and confirming he was Regina’s kid. If she never heard “I can help” and “stay away from my son” again she’d die content.

“You are and **were** and will forever **be** grounded.”

“That doesn’t matter if we’re trying to find Mr. Gold’s son!”

“It absolutely does—no. No. We are not doing this.” She waved between them. “I’m done arguing with you kid. I told you you were grounded and it’s not up for discussion. Ever. And neither is this.”

She whipped her phone out.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling your mom.”

“You can’t!”

She wagged the phone at Henry showing him she already had.

Regina answered after half a ring. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Except for the boot print she wanted to leave on his butt.

“He hid in the trunk didn’t he?”

“All the way to Boston.” Henry rubbed his neck. “I think it was a little cramped back there. He’s looking a little stiff.”

“I’ve already spoken with Aurora. She’s leaving town now to pick him up.”

Emma raised both eyebrows in surprise, “You’re not coming?”

Regina huffed. “My deal with Gold. I can’t leave the city limits remember?”

“Even for Henry.”

“He won’t care.”

“Sure he—“ She froze. Really quiet for a guy with a limp and a cane Gold had slipped out of the car and was standing beside Henry, one hand tight on his cane and other other settled on Henry’s shoulder.

“There a problem sheriff?”

“Regina needs to pick up Henry.”

He tilted his head, “She’s bound to Storybrooke and our flight leaves in an hour. How, pray tell, will she do that?”

“We’ll meet her halfway,” she said evenly, trying not to growl.

Gold shook his head, another nasty smile forming. “I don’t think so.”

“He’s not being cooperative is he,” Regina asked.

“Nope.”

“And your flight to New York?”

“Leaves in an hour.”

They were stuck. Trapped by stupid deals and know-it-all sons and a monster of a man with a gold-capped tooth. Emma didn’t like being trapped. It made her itchy.

She shivered and Henry and Gold watched her with similar same curious looks.

“Henry **has** mentioned wanting to visit New York.” Regina sounded resigned and hopeful at the same time. Lemons into lemonade. Something new for a woman who used to be so against compromise she tried to curse Emma into eternal sleep.

Emma sighed, “This wasn’t how I planned it.”

Regina actually scolded her, “This is why you don’t make blind deals with **Gold**.”

She scoffed, “Says the woman trapped in Storybrooke with my mother.” She turned her back on her son and Gold and lowered her voice. “We’ll call you when we’re on the ground?”

“Please. And Emma—“

“I know.” She really didn’t. But she also didn’t want to hear someone tell her to be careful or safe or suspicious. **Again**. 

“You don’t know,” she could hear the smile over the phone, “but you’re smart enough most of the time, and if Gold does anything especially awful you can just push him off a bridge.”

Emma tried not to snort and over the phone she heard Mary Margaret yelp Regina’s name in shock.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said dryly.

“And keep our son safe?”

Our son. Regina said that a lot now. And she said it so often Emma had stopped noticing.

Mostly.

“Do me a favor,” she asked. The agreement to watch over Henry hopefully implied.

“Anything.”

She swallowed. Having Regina this…amicable was terrifying. “With me out of the picture the Sheriff’s department is gonna be a little light in the magic department. Maybe help them out a little.”

“I’ve helped before,” she snarked. 

“No inflating suspects.”

“Fine.”

“Or exploding things.”

“You’re tying my hands.”

“And try not to explode yourself,” she said softly. Intimately. Too intimately. Gold and Henry were standing right behind her, she glanced and saw only Henry looking confused. Emma blushed and turned back away.

“Worried,” Regina asked.

“I’m hanging up,” Emma insisted.

“Emma.”

She groaned, “What?”

“I’ll be worried about you too.”

 

####

“Question.” Aurora had even raised her hand to ask it. “Why are **you** here.” Her finger pointed at Regina.

“Because there’s a murderer traipsing through Storybrooke and we have to find them.”

“Right. That’s why we’re here,” she motioned to herself, Mulan and David and then down at the badge hanging between her breasts. “Not you.”

“I know the town better than you.”

“Of course you do. You built the bloody thing,” Killian snorted.

David raised his hand. “The bigger question is why **he’s** here.”

“I brought him,” Mulan countered, and she said it sincerely enough that no one felt the need to ask why.

Killian hiccuped. Then swayed.

The drinking was getting out of control and he needed to be watched was the why. He put a water bottle to his lips and Mulan snatched it out of his hand without even looking and dropped it into the trashcan before providing a fresh bottle filled with actual water.

“Another question,” Aurora said. “Why’s **Regina** in charge?”

“The prince was in a coma for thirty years, Mulan **still** drives down the wrong side of the road when she’s excited, and you have had this entire conversation while looking at Facebook on your phone.”

Aurora mutely slipped her phone into her purse.

“Do you actually have a plan,” Mulan asked—being more skeptical in front of non-Thieves than Regina would have liked.

None. All she knew was that a war was being waged between fairies and changelings and only famous fairies were being murdered. They’d exhausted nearly every source they had, and with nothing else to go on all they could do was wait.

She looked away.

“So you’re in charge,” David said carefully, “and you have no idea what to do?”

“Do **you** have an idea,” she shot back.

“We could keep looking for the fairy monks.”

“Oh yes,” Killian slumped back against Aurora’s desk, “let’s all go traipsing through the woods some more. Because **that’s** worked so far.”

“Well, we could ask what you want to do but I’m a hundred percent sure it involves living in a bottle.”

Killian was sober enough to look offended, “Like a genie? I’m a **free man,** sir.”

“He meant your drinking,” Mulan sighed. “And what about talking to that guy that crashed into town?”

“Emma already spoke with him,” David said. “He doesn’t have anything to do with any of this.”

“That she knows. She’s not actually stupid enough to think it was a **coincidence** he crashed into town the same night that guy nearly killed Regina.”

“Mulan doesn’t believe in coincidences,” Regina explained.

Killian nodded, “She hates them.”

Aurora stopped them for snidely discussing the matter forward with a dramatic groan. “Fine,” she said, “I **might** have an idea.”

“Really?” Regina crossed her arms.

“The bird plan didn’t work,” David said.

“The bird plan was only half my idea. **This** is all mine. And it involves talking to a fairy.”

“They won’t talk to us.”

“The ones in the convent and monastery won’t. And my parents and godmothers have no idea what’s doing on. But they’re not the only fairies in town.”

“Tinkebelle’s here,” Killian asked.

Regina rounded on him in surprise, “You know Tinkerbelle?”

He grinned like a pervert, “Who doesn’t?”

“ **Not** Tinkerbelle,” Aurora shouted, her voice ringing off the tile floors. “I don’t even know who that is.”

“All right,” David crossed his arms and puffed out his chest—issuing a challenge. “Who then?”

Aurora glanced at Regina and her stomach sank. Because that loaded look said it all. 

The one fairy other fairy Regina was positive was in town.

And her best friend once upon a time.

And someone who wouldn’t like to see either her or Aurora.

And now maybe their best chance at saving lives.

Maleficent.

 

####

Gold usually oozed confidence. The infuriating kind that left Emma antsy. He wasn’t a man who got nervous. And he wasn’t a man who seemed scared.

But on the short flight to New York his knuckles were white as he gripped the seat and his jaw was tight as he gritted his teeth and he kept shooting daggers at Henry as he shoved Cinnabons in his face. Then at La Guardia they got in the cab and he handed her a slip of paper with an address on it. Like he was too scared to speak to the cab driver himself.

She joked about it and was met with a glare that had her scooting towards Henry and putting an arm around him protectively. She could be amused by the monster out of his depth, but she was pretty sure poking him too much would end up with her looking like a toad or something when they got back.

Gold hummed with nerves as they drove and Emma tried to ignore it, leaning into Henry and pointing out spots of interest through the window.

She kept losing her track of thought watching her son’s wide-eyed awe. He was always such a little adult that she sometimes forgot how sheltered he was growing up in his tiny town with an overly watchful mother.

“Remind me to get you a hot dog while we’re here kid.”

He wrinkled his nose, “Mom says the hot dogs in New York give you dysentery. She says that you’re supposed to eat steak when you’re here.”

“Unless Regina wants to fly down here and pay you’re getting the other New York staples. Bagels. Cheesecake. Hot dogs.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Gold said.

“No one invited you to join us. We’ll do it why you try to convince your son you’re only half a monster.”

He scowled, but he was so ashen with worry it didn’t hold its normal weight.

The topic of sons broached Henry leaned forward to look around Emma and asked the obvious, “Are you nervous?”

Gold tried another scowl, that bounced off the kid like teflon. Emma thought about reminding him that Henry’s other parent was the **Evil Queen** and he’d grown up on dark looks from murderers, but she didn’t feel like getting a death glare either.

Instead she asked, “When was the last time you saw the kid?”

“Almost three hundred years ago.”

The cabbie did a double take and Emma shot him a sheepish smile. 

“So,” Henry mused, “he’s probably not a kid anymore?”

“Probably not.”

“How do you even know if he’s alive? What if we’re going to see your grandchild?” Henry’s eyes widened. “Or great grandchild?”

“Kid…”

“It’s him,” Gold growled. “My son is alive.”

“Yeah and the 300 year old man lives here,” the cabbie interrupted, “and that’ll be fifty-two fifty.” He nodded back at the glowing screen perched between them, where the bill popped up. 

Gold and Henry had matching expressions of sticker shock. When it was clear Gold was too stunned by the price of a cab from La Guardia into Manhattan during afternoon rush hour Emma sighed and pulled Regina’s card out. She had to shield Henry from the read out so he wouldn’t see the name and point out the fraud she was committing, but she didn’t plan to use **her** money on this trip, and if Regina could curse a town into existence she had to have cursed herself a sizable bank account.

She could afford it.

She hoped.

The three of them shuffled out of the cab, Henry helping Gold and pointedly ignoring the man’s offense at being offered help by a pre-teen.

Then he asked uncomfortably invasive questions as they walked too slowly towards the apartment building-grilling Gold on his relationship with his son, his feelings about the reunion and—inexplicably—about Regina.

“Does she know we’re doing this?”

Gold actually **tripped** and Henry caught him.

“Your mother get you to ask that question?” Gold’s eyes darted to Emma accusingly.

“No, but my mom says you’re trying to date Cora and she’s my mom’s mom. Which means your son could be her stepbrother and **I** would be his nephew.”

“Kid,” Emma warned.

“Don’t you think your family tree is tangled enough,” Gold asked.

“Until last year I didn’t even **have** a family tree.”

Gold looked irritated enough to threaten that whole new tree, so Emma jogged ahead and yanked the door to the building open, guiding her son and Gold in and squeezing the kid’s shoulder to hopefully, silently, tell him to knock it off.

“Which one does you son live in,” Henry asked.

Emma’s silent commands were worthless.

Eager to end things and maybe score some one on one time with Henry while Gold and his son cried and hugged or tried to murder each other or whatever family estranged for three hundred years did Emma scanned the names listed.

“Recognize any of them?”

Gold did not. Because that would be easy.

Emma spied the one apartment without a name by its buzzer and took a haphazard guess that was their guy. She made up some excuse about how people who were hiding didn’t advertise and Gold was so caught up with the idea of a reunion that he didn’t poke at any of the huge holes in that claim.

Her assertion paid off when someone answered their buzzer but didn’t speak. Emma’s pride was secure for another day. 

She leaned against the door, gave Gold a thumbs up and announced herself as a delivery.

Then they waited.

And waited.

And finally there was the click as the man took his finger off the buzzer. Then heavy feet on metal grating like he had just leapt onto a fire escape and was running away from the father he’d been running from for three hundred years.

Or debt collectors.

Or a bounty hunter.

A really great bounty hunter.

“He’s running,” Emma said and they all ran outside to catch him as he landed six feet away and took off without looking.

“That debt Ms. Swan? It’ll be repaid when you get my son to talk to me.”

So like a good mash up of Dr. Phil and a bail bonds woman.

Emma gave chase.


	10. Chapter 10

Contrary to popular belief (okay maybe just Regina that one time at Granny’s Diner) Emma was not a runner. Yes, she could  **run** , but when it came to the big stuff Emma was usually the one who pulled up her big girl pants and faced things like a Savior/best damn bail bonds person in New England.

That curse August told her she was born to break being the one major outlier. 

She didn’t believe in running from the bad stuff. Because running meant that you could actually get away and Emma had learned long ago that nothing was inescapable. Not warrants, exes or even stupid fairy-ordained destinies. Sooner or later, no matter how long your put if off, whatever was coming for you would find you.

Which was why she **really** hated Gold’s son. This guy spent three hundred years running from his dad and now they were in the same damned borough in New York City and he was being chased by one of the best damned bail bonds persons of New England and he was **still** choosing to run rather than face the music.

She was so annoyed she put on a burst of speed, leaping spryly over the hood of a taxi and impressing herself with her agility.

But did Nailfire, or whatever the hell his name was, stop to stare in awe at her agility? No. Instead he shoved a guy, kicked over a garbage can and kept running.

And Emma kept chasing. She wasn’t even winded and was almost tempted to call out a taunt. Maybe something about how she’d chased a fairy murderer who turned cars into dogs earlier and his non-magic ass couldn’t compare.

After leaping over a gate like he did parkour in his off hours the guy hooked a left down an alleyway. Emma landed only a few feet behind him and gave herself one long moment to assess her surroundings. The kind of moments a hunter of idiots runners was good at taking. She saw what he’d been too busy running to see. He’d trapped himself and would be forced to take a corner which meant if she went straight—

She charged down the alleyway—magic-like adrenalin coursing through her. She saw his shadow before she saw him. Smirking on her prowess she ducked her head and led with her shoulder. Then she slammed into him so hard they both went careening into the cobblestone—the pavement bumping painfully against her knees.

She twisted herself around and used the deep gap between the stones like handholds propelling herself forward towards her target.

And then she froze. Like magic. One second in motion and the next inert, her mouth hanging open and only the sound of her breathing—his breathing—in her ears.

Then other sounds returned. The street and the people and finally her own voice.

And as his shock wore off—just a little faster than her own—it was replaced by a smile.

The god damned asshole was **happy** to see her.

Then she started talking. She started accusing. Everything that was running around in her head just fell out of her mouth without rhyme or reason.

Because it was **Neal**. The bastard who left her with enough stolen watches to put her in jail for a year. The guy who sent her keys to a stolen car but couldn’t be bothered to attach a god damned note. The guy who told her again and again that he loved her and that she had a family and then abandoned her. 

The son of a bitch had fucked her up royally.

Just the night before she’d sat on Regina’s couch and called him **cancer**.

And he was smiling because he was happy to see her.

“You played me.”

He looked confused and she saw Henry and the way he’d tilt his head sometimes and pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. Then she saw Gold mirroring the same expression and revulsion trickled down her spine.

And then everything else rambled out of her as she realized it wasn’t just Gold or just Neal. It was the both of them. Working in some sick concert to ruin her whole life.

“Who’s Gold,” he asked. Like he didn’t know. Like they were still two normal little orphans from bumfuck nowhere figuring out their lives by pointing at a place on a map and just driving and— “Your father. Rumpelstiltskin.”

The name didn’t sound so ridiculous for once. Not when he blanched—the color leeching out of his cheeks.

Emma had a super power. One honed on Neal’s lies and it worked then—cutting straight through his denials and put upon confusion.

Of course he knew who she was. Everyone had known. All of them. Him and his father and her parents and stupid nun fairies and more. Orchestrating her whole life. 

 **Destiny**. 

That’s what they kept calling it. And Mary Margaret liked to act like it was romantic—like David throwing her into a hole in a tree or Neal leaving her in a parking lot was exquisitely painful Love Story bullshit.

“You brought him **here** ,” Neal asked. 

Acting like he was the one being ambushed in this situation.

She shouted back. Shutting him down and trying not to mentally collapse in his presence. And there was something about seeing her so scared and angry that just sort of…melted him. The livid anger disappeared and the charm came on strong. Slicing through more than ten years like they were nothing and merging with his own nerves because of his dad.

“Not here,” he said, when she demanded an answer. He nodded down the street to a bar and urged her to go for a drink.

No. It wasn’t him urging or requesting. He turned and walked away, expecting her to follow and the same condescension his father exuded shaping the strong lines of his back.

How much of an idiot was she that she hadn’t seen it earlier? They were practically twins with their smug stupid know it all faces. If she kneecapped his ass he’d probably even **limp** like his dad.

He rounded the corner and she hopped up in down in frustration before going after him. A whole ten years of angry words were boiling up inside of her and she couldn’t wait to vomit them all over his dumb pouty face.

 

####

They got stares.

Walking down the street people **stared**.

And Regina supposed it was an unusual sight. Three deputies, a formerly evil mayor and a pirate walking shoulder to shoulder. No one arguing and no one in chains.

They were a team.

A team and a Charming.

Only they weren’t off to vanquish a foe. But to manipulate one.

A task Charming had seemed all too okay with performing.

That hadn’t stopped him from bringing his huge sword. He was carrying it like a lumberjack again. Blade resting on his shoulder. It was some new affectation that came from merging a milquetoast veterinarian’s assistant with a bucolic prince. 

People eyed the sword, just like they eyed the one strapped to Mulan’s back or Aurora’s magical bow.

“Am I the only one in this group willing to use modern weaponry,” Killian asked.

Against everyone’s better judgement they’d allowed him to take a shotgun and he was wearing a bandolier of shotgun shells over his coat.

“I don’t think a shotgun slug is going to take out a giant fire-breathing dragon,” David muttered.

“And your dinky little sword will?”

Charming spun around to face Killian. His sword slipped off his shoulder, the supernaturally sharp tip digging into the sidewalk. “It’s been good enough in the past.”

“That’s because your lot lobs them like grenades. I wouldn’t trust your aim with your new depth perception.”

“Says the guy who has to shoot his shotgun one handed.”

“You know,” Regina mused, “if you two just dropped your pants here in the street we could measure and get this over with.”

Aurora patted her purse, “I’ll gladly document it.”

“And then text me the photos at 3 in the morning because she thinks its funny—no one is dropping pants,” Mulan declared. 

Mulan could be such a spoilsport. Though Regina suspected she was being a wet blanket because she was worried. She kept glancing at Aurora with concern, but Aurora, trying to show she was a “strong woman” was acting like she wasn’t terrified they were seeking out the woman who’d cursed her into a hellish dreamscape for more than thirty years.

She didn’t tremble, because Aurora **never** trembled but when her hand brushed against Mulan’s there was brief and purposeful contact. It was sweet, and Regina had the good manners not to show she’d seen the display of affection. It always made Mulan blush and Aurora get cranky.

Rumpel’s girl perked up when the five of them strode into “her” library. She snapped a book closed that she’d been reading and moved another pile off the counter to better stare at them.

“Can I help you?”

“No,” Regina said sharply. 

Belle **peered**. “Any particular reason you’re all walking into the library…armed?”

“Any particular reason you’re pairing that skirt with those shoes,” Killian shot back.

Belle looked down at her outfit in alarm. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing,” Aurora insisted. “Killian’s just jealous because he hasn’t been clothes shopping in three hundred years.”

“Can we please focus,” David sighed. He glanced over at Regina, “Any reason you brought us to the library instead of the caves?”

“I wanted to watch Killian snipe at Rumpel’s girl.”

Killian and the girl both huffed.

Mulan sighed then. “She has a secret passage to the tunnels, David. It’s obvious.”

“No, it isn’t,” Killian opined.

Mulan waved at the wall covered in a mirrored glass mural of a tree. “Yes it is. Look at this wall. Only one pane of glass has fingerprints on it, it’s recessed up at the top and the dust on the floor is scattered away from it like there’s air coming out of the gap at the bottom. And it’s an apple tree—Regina can never pass up hiding things behind her favorite symbols.”

Regina was about to protest that assertion when Mulan stepped forward and pressed the exact button that had to be pressed to move the fake wall and reveal the elevator.

She pulled the lift door open and motioned for everyone to step in. “Now Belle you’re going to stay here and operate the lift while we go down and have a chat with my girlfriend’s mortal enemy.”

Mulan could be so maddeningly **good**.

 

####

Neal tried to be casual ordering their beers. He asked her what she’d been up to and Emma lied robotically and he told her what he’d been up to and she ignored him—preferring the thunder in her ears and the hundred questions running around and around in her brain.

Chief among them, “Did you know?”

His revulsion talking about the other world was enough of an answer for her. He probably would have shoved her out of the Bug while it was in motion if he’d known back then. Let her get run over by a couple of semis and never look back.

He told about how he learned. How August showed up and kicked Neal’s Lost Boy complex into high gear with talk of prophecies and duties. He made to make it sound nice. Or tragic. And he really fucking sold it with the puppy dog eyes. But all she could see was that wall she stared at day in and day out in her cell in Phoenix.

The conversation kept twisting with Neal having an answer for every question—like he’d spent the last ten some odd years preparing himself for this meeting in an empty sports bar.

But then she asked how. How could they have met if it wasn’t in his plan and it wasn’t in his father’s?

Neal got introspective. He’d always been thoughtful. Whether casing a joint or planning a con he could slip into a pensive mood that seemed to arrest his whole body. This time his eyes stayed focus on a point between Emma and the bar countertop as he worked out his answer. He looked up through hooded eyes and started talking about words that made Emma itch. Words like “fate” and “destiny.”

Words her parents used. Words Regina used.

Excuses. Her parents shoved her in a tree and blamed it on fate. Regina destroyed the lives of a whole land and called it destiny. Neal abandoned Emma because some higher power said **she** had to save the world and **he** couldn’t be involved.

It was such. Fucking. Bullshit.

Neal leaned in. Sounded optimistic. Sounded like another one of those fate zealots back in Storybrooke. “Maybe there was a reason,” his voice was soft and wistful. “Maybe something **good** came from us being together.”

Maybe fate **was** real and not just something Emma name checked when she interrogated fairies.

As much as she hated Neal—and she did hate him—he’d given her Henry. And Henry had given her hope and love and a **family**. 

A family she’d been destined to save since she was in the womb.

And she was back to the bullshit and the people she loved most all tearing her apart because of **fate**.

“Nope,” she said shaking her head and lying through her teeth. “Nothing.” She thought about her tiny cell and how she’d press up against the cinderblock wall at night to try and stay cool. “I went to jail. I’m over it.”

He looked sorry and Emma had to stand up to put space between them. “And I’m over you,” she claimed. She was grateful Regina wasn’t there to point out how bald **that** lie was.

Only then Neal glanced down at her chest bashfully—hopefully? “Then why do you still wear it?”

Her hand flew to the locket beneath her shirt. Warm and inert and empty of the magic pull she’d grown too accustomed to.

“The keychain,” Neal clarified.

And she could feel it too, the cheap metal pressed into her palm. Smooth and worn down by ten years of constant wear. A reminder of him. Them. Everything that hurt.

She said something about it being a reminder to never trust others and watched the guilt play across his face. Enough guilt that she reiterated her original request. The one she’d made what felts like days before.

She asked him, the man who’d betrayed her and hurt her and nearly destroyed her, to do her a favor and come meet his father.

And he, the man who’d taught her what love felt like before ripping out her metaphorical heart, said no. 

If she’d still had a heart inclined to romance his refusal would have crushed it.

She staggered outside and tried to school her insides. Her heart was racing. Her chest was heaving. Her mind was working through very particular memories like a broken record. 

Away from him for the first time since seeing him the realization that it was God damned **Neal** was allowed to settle.

Neal being Gold’s son made perfect sense. The kind of sense enough to not even shock her. And it didn’t—not really. The shock was because of Henry. Because Neal—Gold—they weren’t family. They didn’t matter.

 **Henry** mattered. And his father was sipping a beer in a sports bar just behind her and his **grand** father was no doubt filling him with boiled hot dogs and warmed candied nuts. And she was gonna have to explain all that to him.

She was going to have to tell her son—who trusted and worshipped her—that she’d lied to him.

Staring off into space she blindly reached for her phone and hit the fourth number on speed dial. It went directly to voice mail, Regina’s recorded tone clipped and officious. She sighed and tried David next—this time getting a more laconic “leave a message.”

Mary Margaret answered on the second ring—her voice breathless like she’d run across the room to answer the phone.

“Emma? Is everything okay?”

It really wasn’t.

And Mary Margaret, heartless and far from herself, was hardly the best person to explain it to. Emma pressed her lips together and tried to ignore the sound the televisions in the bar behind her.

“Emma?” There was concern there. **Genuine** concern. The kind a woman without a heart shouldn’t be able to have. If Emma tried she could see her best friend Mary Margaret on the other end instead of the heart-free mom/friend she was now. “What’s wrong,” she asked again—the genuine concern actually palpable over the phone.

A shaky sigh rattled out of Emma’s chest, “I found Henry’s dad.”

 

####

Caves always smelled…salty.

All the moisture and minerals gave the air a distinct tang unique to being underground. When Regina was briefly blinded and kidnapped by a Nordic god turned minotaur she’d known where she was by the smell.

Emerging from the elevator into the caverns that ran beneath Storybrooke evoked unpleasant memories. Mulan took time out of her worrying for Aurora to give Regina a look. 

“You okay?”

“Better than the princess,” she shot back haughtily. The minotaur god was cosigned to the past and she really didn’t need her savior then, Mulan, to bring it up now.

Aurora fingers played nervously with her bow’s grip—her own nerves muting Regina and Mulan’s back and forth.

Charming gave his sword a lazy practice twirl. “So which way to the evil dragon fairy?”

She pursed her lips and suffered the stares of all four companions. Finally, “I’m not sure.”

Killian scoffed loudly behind her.

“When she was a dragon it wasn’t **hard** to find her. Who knows what she is now.”

“Besides dead,” Aurora said distantly.

“Besides **mostly** dead.” It was a critical distinction. Dead was of no use to them. Mostly dead was hopefully the state of evil fairy witches after Saviors skewered them with their father’s sword.

Aurora gripped her bow tighter. “She won’t be hiding. Where ever she is it’ll be in plain sight.”

David glanced at Mulan. “Then we’ll go first. You two stay back.”

“I’ll help,” Killian offered. He cocked his gun impressively. “Watch the rear and all that.”

Regina refrained from making a joke about Killian’s fondness for the rear and instead agreed to Charming’s very loose idea of a plan.

A raspy groan filtered through the cave and Mulan unsheathed her own sword and motioned towards its origins. “Sounds like we go this way.”

This was why Regina hated heroes. Regina was accustomed to running **away** from the scary noises. Big lug heroes like Mulan and Charming happily ran **towards** the noises with swords drawn and good intentions wielded like shields.

They all headed towards the sound. Charming and Mulan leading the way, Regina and Aurora ensconced in the middle and Killian gawking at the back.

Until they’d actually stepped into the cave Aurora had been herself. Assured Mistress of the Nightmare Realm and general know it all. Now trapped underground she was taut as a wire—almost rigid. Every new noise earned quick and sure focus and a sharp intake of breath as she prepared to reach for an arrow.

“Nervous,” Regina asked quietly. The others were just far enough away to keep the conversation quiet as long as their voices were low.

“You aren’t,” Aurora asked, never taking her eyes off the path ahead.

“Emma killed her with nothing but a pistol and a sword. I hardly consider her a threat.”

“She was a dragon then. Who know’s what she is now.”

“Besides mostly dead.”

Aurora took the briefest of moments to glance at Regina. “Besides mostly dead. Did the curse do that? Let her live?”

“If it worked correctly. Yes. No one could die during the curse.” Unless she crushed their heart in her hand. The scar itched beneath the bandage on her bad hand and she slid it into her pocket.

Aurora stepped over a stone that had fallen in their path and held her hand out to help Regina over. “Did you test the theory often?”

“You mean did I kill people just to see if they’d come back?”

She nodded.

“No.”

Aurora exhaled—as if she’d been nervous about the answer.

“Not on purpose at least. There was no fun in just murdering people I’d cursed into eternal misery. Not when I could force them to—“ 

Her mouth snapped shut and Aurora raised an eyebrow.

“Force them to what?”

Storybrooke had often been a brutally lonely place. As isolating as any tower her mother had kept her in. And perhaps when she’d been given the opportunity to manipulate nearly every person she’d ever known she’d run with it. Acted out whole stories and sagas in the confines of a sleepy Maine town.

And maybe she really didn’t want her friends and David Nolan knowing that she once did a one woman show variation of Phantom of the Opera and forced the entire town to attend **and** praise it.

Some things were better left to foggy and distant memories.

Everyone else had stopped and looked back at her, having gleaned enough of the conversation to be curious about her answer.

She motioned to a spot of dull gray light ahead. “When she was a dragon she often slept in the cave ahead. She could be there now.”

“You’re changing the subject,” Aurora said imperiously.

Regina brushed past her and ahead Mulan and David resumed the trek. “Yes,” she said, “I am.”

 

####

“You’re changing the subject!”

Gold was angry. He hadn’t blown up yet, but he was getting close. 

Emma didn’t like it when people got angry. Especially the intimidating kind of angry Gold was. 

“Henry, go in the bathroom,” she said, not taking her eyes off Gold.

Henry tried to protest but she took a break from her stare down with Gold to shoot him a solid Mom glare. He sulked out, leaving her alone with Neal’s father.

A fact she was now determined to keep from everyone involved. That was what she’d figured out in her conversation with Mary Margaret. The former friend—maybe trying to prove something because of her lack of a heart—had insisted she tell everyone the truth. Only Emma saw what the truth got Mary Margaret. And Regina. And everyone else. Truth never helped. Truth meant getting dragged up to Maine to fight evil queens and dragons. The truth was standing on a roof looking at two sets of stars and being kissed by confusion.

So she’d lied when she got back to Neal’s apartment. Her plan was to get them out of there, and out of New York, as fast as she could. 

But Gold had had his own plan and stolen right into Neal’s apartment with that same entitlement that had guided Neal to that bar earlier. Father. Son.

And then Henry had snooped through the apartment unfazed. 

Grandfather. Father. Son.

And now he was confused and sulking in the bathroom and she was standing opposite his unknowing grandfather trying to figure a way to get them out of there without a fight or a truth.

Gold stalked closer, his cane reminding Emma more of a weapon than physical support.

She could handle a weapon. She could handle a fight. It’d be easier than sitting the kid down and telling him his dad wasn’t a dead fireman but a living sad sack who ran away from destiny because his dad was the Dark One.

Gold started shouting like he wanted to fight too. Started threatening. The kind of threats that wouldn’t allow Emma to back down. She was too old and come too far to be treated like a…like a child—an orphan—the kind of kid people could get away with beating. She **hated** when people—Gold—tried to treat her that way.

She took a step towards him ready to snatch his cane away and beat **him** with it, but he was just as fast and seemed, in an instance, to **loom**. Somehow being terrifying even without magic. He smashed a bookshelf to the ground and Emma tensed up—ready to block the cane’s blow with her forearm if needed.

And then. Then Neal was there, forcing his father back and unraveling Gold’s anger with a word.

Gold’s anger and Emma’s world. Because minutes later Henry was back in the room too and all of Emma’s plans. All her hopes. All her needs. Were unravelling too.

 

####

“Were you really her friend?”

Mulan and David were carefully picking their way down into the pit below while Regina, Aurora and Killian hid behind a stone and watched for Maleficent above. It was a boring job and apparently led to Aurora asking more questions.

“Now,” Regina asked, glancing at Aurora. “You want to ask this now?”

She shrugged, “Not like we’re doing much else.”

“Just looking out for a murderous fairy,” Killian mumbled.

“Were you her friend,” she asked again.

Regina turned her focus back to the pit. A thick fog hid the floor of it and made her nervous.

“Regina.”

“Yes.” Could Maleficent **be** the fog? “Yes, once upon a time I was an evil queen and my best friend was a malicious fairy.”

“And you knew about me?”

“As your mother knew about me,” she murmured.

Aurora stopped watching her girlfriend descend into a potentially haunted pit to turn and face Regina fully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your mother was a fairy and knew **all** about my mother and was only too happy to join the other fairies and refuse to help me.”

“Fairies are obligated to help everyone in need.” Like tiny angels.

“I had Cora Mills for a mother and Rumpelstiltskin orchestrating every event in my life. How much more trouble could I have been in?”

“Maybe you didn’t ask. You have to ask Regina. Wish upon a star?”

Regina had wished every day. Until her mother caught her and told her only fools prayed to fairies for help.

“You also have to believe,” Killian said. “Don’t forget that.”

“And clap and everything else. I’m well aware! Point is we have **all** turned a blind eye to suffering when it suited us. Even the fairies. And besides, that was long before I knew you, Aurora.”

She rolled her eyes. “That makes it better?”

“Doesn’t it?”

Her mouth dropped open. Then snapped shut.

Regina clarified—feeling it was very important to make Aurora understand. “I know you now and while it pains me to say it, I like you. Circumstances now…it doesn’t matter how close Maleficent and I once were—I wouldn’t—I won’t—let her hurt you.”

Below Mulan and David stepped foot into the pit where a dragon had once resided. The fog immediately took form, gathering into a gaunt female shape.

Aurora ducked back behind the stone and behind them both Killian crept forward. The princess didn’t panic often—having once said panic wasn’t very regal. It was so very odd to see her panic. Watch her eyes widen with worry and…fear.

“You regularly descend into a nightmare realm of fire and darkness. Why on earth are you afraid of a mostly dead fairy?”

Aurora gulped and watched the fog solidify into a rasping monstrosity that was recognizable as Maleficent only because of the horns curling up from the moldering head. Mulan and David bravely approached and seemed to speak to the thing.

That was the plan. They get the information needed and the others wait and intervene if necessary.

“I like to think I know people.” Aurora didn’t take her eyes off Maleficent. “But **she** fooled me. She took advantage.”

“You’re wiser now.”

She winced, “Perhaps. But it stings always doesn’t it? That first betrayal?”

Sometimes it didn’t sting quite as much. It hadn’t stung at all when it had drifted out of her mind while standing on a rooftop the night before. It had been the first time in decades.

“It will one day,” she said—surprising even herself. “I think, at some point…at some point it stops being betrayals—being our past—that hurts us most.”

It starts being a son that can barely tolerate you and True Love’s Kiss shared with a ghost of the woman you love.

“Sadly, for some of us the past will always hurts most,” Killian said. “We can’t all just forget it because of a child or a new lover, Regina.”

Aurora looked up at him, plaintive and empathetic.

“Which is why I’m sorry. To both of you.” And Killian looked tragically regretful.

“What?”

“Because it isn’t always the **first** betrayal that stings.”

The butt of his gun struck Regina’s temple viciously. Stars exploded across her vision and blood roared in her ears. Aurora shouted and rose but was forced back with a swift kick to the chest that sent her tumbling over the edge into the pit. Below the fog swirled around Aurora, consumed her. Mulan and David shouted and Maleficent hissed. 

Hook snatched Regina up by her collar. She grabbed at the arm that held her aloft. She reached for him and her fingers grazed the bandolier of shot gun shells.

“Why,” she croaked.

“Because you’ve moved on.” Killian’s voice cracked. “And I’ve tried Regina. I keep trying to move on, but I can’t.” 

“This…this is about Gold?”

“He killed the only person I ever truly loved, and I think it’s time I got **my** revenge.”

“It won’t help.”

He pulled her close, her the tips of her dangling feet brushing the cave floor. “I think it has to.”

Then he heaved and threw her away. The last sight before the fog consumed her was of Killian’s face. Somber. Fallen. Familiar. 

She knew the bitter anger that consumed him and if it weren’t for this betrayal she might have even understood.


	11. Chapter 11

She never fantasized about Henry meeting his dad. Ever. Sometimes, in those first few years, she’d fantasize about Neal coming back. Apologizing. Telling her he’d been hit by a car, knocked into a coma and had never given up on her. But never, in all the years since she'd last seen him, has she ever visualized a world where he and Henry were in the same room and sharing the same air.

She cared too much about Henry for that. Hated Neal too much for it too. 

She wasn’t prepared for Henry staring up at Neal and Neal looking down at him. Wasn’t prepared for the exact same look of awe they both shared. Wasn’t prepared for the crap that came raining down as soon as Henry realized his dad was alive, not a fireman and right in front of him.

She kind of now understood that look Regina had given her when she’d shown up. And **really** understood the terse way she’d kicked her out of her house after half a glass of cider.

It was weird understanding Regina Mills.

This new revelation proved to be too much for Henry and he darted out the window before any of them could stop him. Emma shot Neal a challenging glare—daring him to offer to give chase—and followed Henry. Her pants snagged on the rough seal of the window.

Behind her she heard Gold plea for Neal to stay and she faintly hoped he wouldn’t.

 

####

The fog was supernaturally thick, cushioning her fall like water. She smacked against it, sinking quickly to the cave floor and more stars crossed in front of her eyes as the impact forced all the air out of her lungs. The scuffed back of boots entered her vision and a hand reached down to blindly pat her face. 

“Regina.”

David. He’d pushed through the fog to her. He offered a hand she gladly took and he hauled her up. He also never took his eye off the seething monstosity at the center of the fog.

“You okay,” he asked.

She blotted at her temple with her finger and it came away wet with blood. “Been better.”

“Hook?”

“Yes.”

“Not the best time to betray us all.”

“No,” she said flatly.

Something in her voice forced David to glance back at her in apology. As if he was sorry she’d been betrayed by one of the few people she’d ever considered a friend.

His pity stung almost as bad as Killian’s attack.

“Poor Regina’s been betrayed. Wonder what that’s like?”

Thirty years since she’d last heard that acerbic voice. She wasn’t even surprised she’d missed it. She tried to stand a little taller and came to stand arm to arm by Charming. “Oh please,” she said—attempting to slip back into a costume she hadn’t worn well in years, “you were hardly betrayed. You knew the curse was coming.”

Maleficent stood on the other side of the pit, Mulan and a woozy Aurora stood between them, and fog continued to flow out and away from Maleficent and move thickly across the pit floor.

“Your cursed me into a six-ton dragon!” She floated across the fog, her bottom completely hidden. Almost like—like it **was** the fog. “You have any idea what that does to a girl’s body image issues?”

“Well, you look fabulous.”

“I’m a zombie Regina.” To illustrate her point Maleficent raised her two boney arms to show off her rotted rib cage and the gleaming white bone of her spine.

“You didn’t hear?” Regina curled her lip up in a half snarl, “Slim’s in.”

Maleficent only had half a set of lips and they twitched instead of curling in a return snarl. “And haven’t you heard. Snide bitches are out.”

The fog rose up and slammed into Regina—sending her smacking into the pit wall and into darkness.

 

####

“You’re just like her.”

Henry, like his adoptive mother, used words like weapons, and like Regina, he was damn good with them. The comparison, too apt for comfort, **hurt**. Sliced right through Emma and pierced something hard and sure inside of her.

She had compared herself to Regina before. Back in the Enchanted Forest they’d both found similarities. Joked about it.

But Regina and Emma had very different opinions of one another compared to Henry's opinion of them. Henry was still deeply wounded by Regina’s actions the year before. The comparison, when uttered by him, was spiteful.

The hurt wasn’t in the words. But Henry’s intent. For the first time ever Henry wanted to hurt **her**.

She had to brace herself against the fire escape. Had to keep standing and acting like it was all okay when it really wasn’t. And she had to keep acting like Henry hadn't struck as savage and sure a blow as he had.

But he knew. He was Regina’s kid after all. He saw how his words landed and he pushed her even though she was weak. “I want to meet my dad,” he said.

Emma, suddenly very alone and very small, had to oblige.

 

####

“Come on your highness. Rise and shine.”

Regina wanted to do neither. She wanted to curl up in these warm, smooth arms and sleep her whole life away.

“You’re being a princess,” murmered a warm voice in her ear.

And now she wanted to thump Emma. The pillow princess cracks were old even when they were new.

“Regina. Please. Wake up.”

Her eyes were closed. She was awake enough to know that. But she could see Emma squatting over her, her broken glasses slipped down her on her nose, her hair pulled back a little too tight, and  delicate wrinkles pronounced around her eyes.

The wrong Emma Swan. But **her** Emma Swan. Alive and well and poking her to get her to wake up.

“You’re gone,” she said, but her lips didn’t move. They didn’t have to. It was all in her head. A whole perfect world shut behind closed lids.

“Yeah. So’s those eyesore airships and the heinously evil version of your mom.”

“How are you here?”

“How are we ever in each other’s heads?”

The locket.

“But,” she swallowed and it was a real swallow in the real world. It hurt, the bits of her parched throat rubbing against each other. “You can’t…”

“Probably not.” She looked off towards something that flashed and clanged like a battle. “I’m probably just a bit of wish fulfillment. The real Emma rejected you and then you smacked your head and saw me. Or,” she reached down to stroke the locket and fire skittered through Regina. A moan—again in the real world—escaped her lips. “You’re wearing a locket I channeled magic into for ten years and there’s a tiny piece of me sitting in it.”

“Watching?”

Emma smiled that perfect bittersweet smile she’d always given Regina. The one that was all the lost years and all the lingering love mashed together. “It’s time to get up Regina. Time to save the world.”

“Will I see you again?”

She leaned down and pressed warm wet lips to Regina’s ear. “Wake up.”

 

####

Neal was snide. And he clearly thought Emma had been raising Henry alone for the past ten years. And he clearly was ready to step in and do the exact opposite of what she wanted. 

“I’m his dad,” he said, and Emma had to struggle not to roll her eyes or punch him.

She had to be civil. 

Had to be polite.

Even though she wanted to rage or run or do anything but stand across from Neal and **parent** Henry with him.

Henry wanted to meet the guy, and as much as it made Emma’s skin crawl she wasn’t going to deny her son that chance. He deserved to know his birth father. Every kid did.

Neal started towards the fire escape and Emma reached out—snatching his arm. “Don’t break his heart,” she warned.

Neal didn’t hear the hurt that would forever linger in Emma’s voice. He saw his own hurt instead, and glanced at Gold, who was milling about and shooting them furtive looks. He promised he wouldn’t be like Gold. Wouldn’t abandon his son.

“Not like me,” she said.

And finally it hit him. Slipped through all that ego and that Gold-sized chip on his shoulder. Finally, even if for a second, Neal understood just how badly **Emma** was hurt.

He tried to apologize and Emma stepped away—not ready for platitudes. Not sure if they’d be sincere or not.

He slipped out the window with more grace than Emma had and she took a seat on his couch. It was lumpy and a spring pushed her phone up into the meat of her ass. She reached behind her and pulled it out—checking the recent calls and texts.

Still nothing from Regina. Nothing from David.

If she’d been a naturally anxious woman she might have been worried.

“Expecting a call,” Gold asked.

She ignored him.

“About our deal…”

“He talked,” she said. “You never said anything about him liking what **you** had to say.”

“I invited him back and he said no.”

“Good.”

“Is it?” He limped over and sat on the table opposite her. “Shouldn't Henry have the luxury of knowing his father?”

“Maybe, but that’s for me, and Regina, to figure out. If Neal doesn’t want to come back I’m not going to push it.”

“You should.”

“Don’t—“

“I saw the look you gave him Emma.” She rankled at how easily he said her first name. “You care for him. This would give you a chance to rekindle whatever you might have once had.”

Emma snorted. 

“You think it’s funny,” he asked.

“I think you trying to manipulate me is. Don’t presume to know me **or** him Gold. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

He tapped his cane against the dark wood of the floor and shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn’t dare. But I do know a thing or two about regret Miss Swan.” He leaned in and motioned to her with his cane’s handle. “And if you let him go all that regret? It will eat you **alive**.”

 

####

“You’re being eaten alive!” Charming was panicking.

“I am not!”

“Yes you—“

“I’m being turned to stone, David. It’s very different.”

“It looks like—“

“I’m well aware,” Regina snapped. And crackled. That was the noise a person made when being turned into stone.

Which was apparently what was happening to her.

On the far side of the pit Mulan was dodging zombie Maleficent’s attacks and Aurora was in some sort of fugue state wrought by terror.

Regina was stuck with a one-eyed prince who panicked at the sight of a curse.

Regina tried to move, but her lower half was numb and the stone was rapidly creeping up her sides. She raised her hands to chest level to ward off the creep a little longer.

“What happened,” she asked. Last thing she remembered was a locket version of another Emma telling her to wake up.

“Maleficent zapped you with her wand and then went after them.”

“Shouldn’t you be helping?”

“Our best bet is having **you** in the fight.” He jammed the tip of his sword into the pit floor and knelt in front of her. “Is it just a casing?” He tried to pry the stone off and ended up just pinching her thighs.

“No.” She batted at his hands. “It is very much me! Stop that.”

“How—“

“It’s a curse.”

He looked up—horror washing over his one eye. “She cursed you? I thought—aren’t there ingredients for a curse.”

“The **good** ones. This is a Witch’s First Curse kind of curse though. Practically the first thing you learn. No ingredients, just a lot of anger.”

“To turn someone into stone.” Charming was still horrified.

“ **Living** stone. They’re well aware of it. Have a gnome in my back yard that’s been like this for **years**.”

“Regina,” he warned.

“It isn’t that big a deal.”

“Then break out of it.” 

She twisted and tried. And it didn’t work because despite it being a very easy curse to cast it wasn’t exactly an easy curse to break out of. It required a lot of goodness on the part of the afflicted. Lots of selfless feelings and copious amounts of altruistic love. 

Which was why witches never cast it. Usually they were battling “heroes” and “saviors” and those people had altruism to spare.

“I can’t,” she finally said.

Charming heaved his sword and took a hearty swing at her stone legs. It rattled straight up her bones.

“That’s not helping!”

“We’ve got to get you out!”

“ **We** can’t.”

He paced away from her and watched the battle across the pit. He was physically antsy and kept running his fingers through his hair and rolling his shoulders.

Regina looked down at her slowly transforming self and tried not to think about how utterly **embarrassing** it was. Here she was the Evil Queen of fairytales getting turned into a rock by a mostly dead zombie fairy.

If Rumpelstiltskin ever found out she’d never live it down.

“What about Love,” David asked, his eye still on the fight.

Was that a capital "l" she heard in his voice? “Excuse me.” 

“Love. That could break the curse.”

She closed her eyes. Of all the…Emma had told her dear daddy about what happened in the woods hadn’t she?

“Yes,” she sighed, “True Love **could** break the curse. Only mine are out of town.”

David swung back around and stalked towards her—licking his trouty lips like he had a terrible plan. 

She reared back as far as she could with her bottom half frozen in place. 

“There a reason your lips are coming any where near me?”

He nodded grimly, “I’m going to kiss you.”

 

####

It was a case of being in another person’s shoes.

Emma was still not crazy about it.

Chiefly because she was being forced into **Regina’s** shoes and the woman had monstrously large feet.

Also because her shoes were unequivocally evil. Well…not anymore. But when Emma had shown up out of the blue and embarked on a relationship with Henry Regina had been super evil. Murder people and poison people evil.

Emma, being a little nicer, did not like being able to empathize with that super evil version of Regina.

But watching Henry and Neal climb back into the apartment through the window she very much understood the appeal of cursed apple turnovers and cut brake lines and whatever else Regina would have or did do in that first year.

Henry was happy, and Neal, who Emma harbored a special hatred for, had **made** him happy.

“You okay,” Emma asked. Feeling especially maternal she stepped forward to run a hand through Henry’s hair, but he evaded her and nodded at his dad. 

“Neal said we could go get pizza. He knows the best pizza in the whole city.” There was a lot of pride in the kid's voice. The kind of pride he usually had when talking about her.

Neal shrugged and Emma glanced at Gold, of all people, for support. “Didn’t Gold already get you a hot dog?”

“He should eat pizza,” Gold growled. “We all should. Makes the New York experience **authentic**.”

She narrowed her eyes at the fink traitor.

“Come on Emma,” Neal said, that pout that used to really work on her going into full effect, “I think it’s okay to spoil the kid today. Don’t you?”

No, she didn’t. The “kid” stowed away in Gold’s car the day after getting suspended from school for punching a girl and recieving a grounding to end all grounding from **both** his moms. He needed whatever the opposite of spoiling was that also wasn’t child abuse.

Gold dropped his arm down onto Henry’s shoulder, putting her son between him and **his** son. “Bae’s right Sherriff. Today is an excellent day for spoiling.”

It wasn’t.

Henry, wisely, didn’t comment.

“Emma,” Neal said her name again. The pout somehow…intensified. It chipped away at her mom resolve almost as insistently as Henry’s talk about betrayal had earlier.

The stupid pout—it had always been **her** pout. The one he only gave her. He used to joke about how she owned it and she’d always, not so privately, enjoyed that. It had been one thing that was all hers. No one could take it away—no one could take what they had away.

And there he was using it again. Like there wasn’t ten years and a jail sentence between then and that moment in his apartment.

She found herself giving into three generations of peer pressure. Only not because of the grandfather she’d made a deal with, or the son she wanted happy. But because of that father who could still smile at her like she was the only person in the world that mattered.

After all those years…she’d kind of missed it.

 

####

“Like hell!” Regina desperately wanted a bottom half not made of stone at that moment. Anything to get away from the incoming Charming.

Those glossy lips were pressed together grimly. “It’s our only plan.”

“Yes, if you’ve been harboring a secret for thirty years that’s going to ruin your marriage. We need **True Love’s Kiss** David. Your lips, as lovely as the may be, don’t suffice.”

“I’ve got a lot of love to give,” he said very seriously.

“So do puppies. You don’t see them breaking any curses do you?”

He scowled. With his hair in his eye and the dark bruise of stubble on his chin he almost looked menacing. He balled his hand into a fist, the crack of his knuckles just loud enough to be heard over the pitched battle on the other side of the pit.

Then he sighed. “You saved my daughter.” It was grudgingly declared. “And my wife. You didn’t have to but you did.”

She scoffed, “So you love me now?”

“I love anyone who puts my family before themselves. Even—” His eye raked over her. The stone was up to her ribs and it was becoming difficult to breathe. “Even you.”

“That’s not enough.” 

“It just has to be love Regina. That’s it.”

“True Love,” she countered.

“Henry woke you. Emma woke Henry. True Love isn’t just what Mary Margaret and I had.”

She was too busy being turned into stone to point out the inappropriate use of past tense.

He came closer. More carefully then before. “I have to believe that True Love is a lot more powerful and lot more flexible then this curse.”

“And if it isn’t?”

He grinned. It was spontaneous and did something to his whole face that made him…almost…attractive. “Then at least only one of us will remember.”

It was the kind of stupid thing Emma would say.

 

####

Emma paused in the middle of the sidewalk and shivered violently. The kind of shivering a person did when they saw something brain searingly disgusting. Which…okay she was watching Henry and Neal get along famously and the jealous and bitter and angry parts of her **did** find that revolting. But not pause mid-step revolting.

“Something the matter,” Gold asked.

She glared.

“They seem awfully happy.”

Yes, her son **did** seem happy. Though he’d made a crack about how his slice of pizza was a better parent than she was. Apparently she could take the kid away from Regina but couldn’t get the Regina out of the kid.

“Why don’t you all keep walking,” she muttered, drawing her phone out of her pocket and motioning ahead. “I’m right behind you.”

Gold glanced down at the phone, “Calling anyone in particular?”

She purposely ignored her. Knowing he was Neal’s dad, and had likely given him more than one of his bad habits, she now had a better blueprint for dealing with Gold. Currently he wanted something from her, which meant she had to ignore him to keep him from getting it.

She slowed down and three generations of men she loved and hated continued on. “Hey,” she said to her phone in a voice low enough that they wouldn’t hear her ahead, “I don’t want to sound like I’m getting nervous. But I **am** getting a little nervous.” Henry stopped to look into a window at a leather bag. Gold stooped over him and Neal glanced back at Emma. She ducked into a doorway. “Everything okay Regina? Because you’re usually much better about calling me back.” She peeked out to watch the guys all head into the shop, Gold holding the door open politely for Henry. “Even my dad’s usually better about answering,” she mumbled.

“Your dad?” Neal, popping up in front of her when she thought he’d gone into the shop, startled her so bad she threw her phone at his face in surprise. It smacked into his nose and he stepped back wide-eyed.

“Jesus,” Emma shouted. She reached down and snatched up her phone, quickly hitting END. “Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?”

“Did you…” Neal was still dazed and rubbing at a lump forming on the bridge of his nose. “Did you throw your phone at me?”

She shoved it into her back pocket. “You startled me.”

“Pretty vicious way of retaliating.”

“Not like you don’t deserve it and worse,” she shot back.

He ducked his head, doing that apologetic pout that was so damned good looking it made her angry. “True. Guess I deserve whatever you throw at me.”

“Including a few punches,” she muttered.

He winced, “I don’t know about that. I seem to remember you have a **vicious** hook.”

“It’s only improved with age.”

“Like the rest of you,” he grinned flirtatiously.

“One of us had too.”

“Guess I deserved that one too.”

“Definitely.” She jerked her chin in the direction of the store Henry and Gold had disappeared into. “Any idea what they’re looking at?”

“I **think** our son is trying to guilt his new grandpa into buying him a bag.”

“Kid loves his accessories.”

“Yeah, where they hell he get that from,” Neal asked.

“His mom.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked Emma over, noting her distinct **lack** of accessories.

“His other mom.”

Neal continued to stare—that one eyebrow refusing to come back down.

“You really think an ex-con eighteen year old raised a kid that well adjusted? I gave him up. Regina adopted him, and until about a year ago was the only person in his life he called Mom.”

“Any reason she didn’t come on this field trip?”

She shrugged, “Curses. Witches. Fairies being murdered. The usual.”

 

####

David Nolan kissed like his daughter.

Which was maybe the most revolting truth Regina had ever learned in her considerable years in more than one realm. She had never **wanted** to know how David Nolan’s kissed. But now she knew. That he kissed like his daughter. That he was aggressive and tender all at once and that he—

“Was the tongue necessary,” she sputtered.

David still had her face cupped in his hands, and his wet lips were still centimeters from her own, and his one eye was still gently closed in reverence.

He swallowed—sort of like he was swallowing bile. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he said—his mouth absolutely full of bile. He spun away to retch and Regina crossed her fully functioning and no longer cursed arms.

“ **You’re** going to be sick? I had your tongue in my mouth. That means I essentially had **Snow’s** tongue in my mouth.”

She was going to gargle mouth wash until the end of time if they ever made it out of the cave.

David wiped his mouth with his sleeve and, still hunched over, looked over his shoulder at her. “But it worked?”

She waved down at her whole body. “Apparently your love is actually boundless.”

He was still breathless. “I told you. You risked your life to save my family. Sacrificed your life to save Mary Margaret.”

“So you love me?” And not just loved. **Truly** loved. If he could break a curse that easily his lips were maybe the most powerful magical item in Storybrooke. “Seriously?”

He nodded and stood up straight. “My family’s important to me. So is anyone who feels the same.”

Regina rolled her eyes, “You have an impossibly low threshold for love.”

“Oh honey, we knew that from his choice in wife.”

All the talk about curses and True Love’s Kiss had distracted Regina and Charming both from the battle at hand. They’d apparently missed Aurora being driven into a corner by tiny goblins made of brambles and Mulan being knocked unconscious and wrapped up in thorny vines.

The desiccated Maleficent was now watching the two of them with, what Regina assumed, was amusement. Reading her facial expressions prove difficult when half Maleficent’s face was gone.

“I see you made short work of Aurora and Mulan,” Regina observed.

She shrugged her boney shoulders, “Helps when that one’s afraid of me and the other one is afraid for her. Emotions tend to make things…messy.” The word rolled of Maleficent’s tongue. She was feeling rather proud for a mostly dead fairy trapped in a cave.

Regina squared her shoulders and stepped between Maleficent and Charming. She needed Maleficent focused on her. It was the only way any of them would get out of the cave intact. “You’re awfully proud of yourself.”

“I can afford to be. When you’re a mostly dead woman stuck in a cave there’s not a lot of places to go but up.”

“Or about six feet under,” Regina said with a smile.

Maleficent pursed what was left of her lips, “Really dear? We’re two of the darkest, nastiest and most magnificent practitioners of magic to ever live and you want to exchange idle threats?”

“You say it’s idle, but which one of us is mostly dead after spending thirty years trapped as a dragon?”

“And which one of us is traipsing around in the incorporeal form of her ex-best friend?”

The fog, for emphasis, pulsed around Regina’s legs.

David tried to pick his legs up out of the fog. “This stuff is…you?”

She rolled her eyes, “Well it’s certainly not natural,” and then to Regina, “is it just me or do the princes get stupider every year?”

Aurora made herself known with a helpless moan as a thorn goblin leapt towards her. Mulan still appeared to be unconcious so Charming, being Prince Charming, tried to rush to her aid.

Only to be wrapped in a set of thorny vines of his own.

“Doesn’t help that the princesses get stupider too,” Maleficent mused. The vines tightened around David forcing his chin up and giving Maleficent a better view of his face. “Now correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you Snow White’s prince? What happened? Needed a princess a little younger and dumber?”

David didn’t dignify the question with a verbal response. Just grunted and struggled.

“Like the eye patch though. Very rakish.”

“Maleficent.”

“This was so polite of you Regina. My archnemesis’s child **and** two Heroes. What better way to get back into the Mistress of Evil thing than the slaughter of a few noble types.”

Maleficent raised her bony arms dramatically and the fog pulsed with evil portent. David grunted again and Mulan hung limply in her bindings and Aurora cried out in concern.

Regina rushed forward, her lower limbs still tingling from the curse, and grabbed Maleficent’s arm. “Let’s not be hasty here dear.”

“You want to protect them?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I want to protect you.” She nodded towards Mulan, “I’m ninety percent sure she’s faking being unconscious, and while the Aurora you knew had a tendency to simper the one I spent two and a half years on a boat with does not.”

The tears stopped immediately.

Maleficent was surprised, looking from the suddenly very serious Aurora and back to Regina. “You’re her friend? Really?”

“And yours,” she insisted.

She leaned in--her breath fetid from the rot, “You stuck me in a cave for thirty years.”

“You didn’t see the haircut I gave Snow White. Trust me. You got the better deal.”

“And them?” The vines tightened. Mulan, no longer pretending to be unconcious, glared at the back of Maleficent’s head. David continued to struggle and hissed when thorns bit through the thick denim of his pants. “What kind of deal did they get?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Maleficent shook her head, “I disagree **dear**.”

“What matters,” Regina said—raising her voice for emphasis, “Is the deal I’m offering you now.”  It was kind of a spur of the moment idea. She was sure Aurora and Mulan would hate it. She waved at Maleficent's body and smiled cordially. “I can reverse that whole ‘mostly dead’ thing.”

Maleficent snorted. Something revolting and dead and possibly once part of her shot out of her nostril. “You couldn’t even bring your farm boy boyfriend back to life. How are you supposed to save a mostly dead fairy?”

The taunt stung—biting into places Regina had worked hard to heal. She briefly tasted the ash of Daniel’s remains on her tongue. Briefly felt all of her inadequacy. She could save fairies and battle gods but she was forever condemned to lose a man she’d once loved.

“Please, continue to taunt,” she drawled, “Here I am offering you a chance to get away from this bad Gollum routine you have going and you’re throwing it in my face.”

“Gollum?”

“I can get you out Maleficent. And they can help.” She spoke slowly, like Maleficent was a toddler.

She caught that. “How,” she said just as slowly. “Sacrificing a few of their hearts?”

“No,” Regina smiled, “just one of their souls.”

 

####

Henry continued to shop and Gold continued to watch over him in a vaguely paternal fashion and Neal stood outside, watching through the window and way more interested in what Emma had to say then in getting to know his brand-spanking new son. 

“So his mom—adoptive mom. She’s a fairy tale too?”

Emma was slow to respond, her brain sluggishly trying to figure out how she’d explain who Henry’s mom was without making it sound like one or both of them was evil.

He lightly thumped her arm with the back of his hand, “Emma? Details? Maybe about the woman raising our son for the last ten years?”

“Yes.”

He raised both eyebrows, the ‘yes’ not being enough of an explanation for him.

Emma huffed, “Yes, she’s a fairy tale person too. Everyone in the town is apparently.”

Neal stepped, rotating his hands, “Okay I’m gonna need more than that. Because I’m picturing Snow White.”

“That’s **my** mom.”

“Right,” he smirked.

She slapped his arm hard enough for the back of her hand to sting.

“Okay,” he said laughingly, “Sorry. No mention of your mom. Or the dwarves.”

“Neal…”

“Which one is your favorite anyways? Sneezy or Dopey?”

“Every second you talk I regret finding you a little more.”

“Come on Emma, you gotta admit it’s pretty funny.”

“Maybe from the outside. From the inside I’m stuck in a shitty Disney fanfic where monsters from other **universes** regularly try to murder me.”

“Flying monkeys?”

“Dementors, centaurs, and cannibalistic blood mages.”

He winced.

“Yeah. Not fun Neal. Really not fun! And then I finally get back to the real world and find out my ex’s dad used to weave straw into gold.”

“Spin.”

“ **Whatever**.”

He shrugged, “Dad just likes people to be specific about that. Use to rip out people’s tongues and tack them to the door if they called it weaving.”

“And now he’s babysitting our impressionable ten year old son. Great.”

"Not that impressionable," Neal noted, "Kid's smart."

"You've known him for half an hour."

"Yeah," he agreed, "And he's smart."

"Sure as hell not because of either of us."

He snorted. "What was it you said that one foster dad always said?"

"Poster children for birth control."

He bumped her shoulder playfully with his, "That's you and me."

"We're classy," she muttered.

"Classy dwarf," he pointed at Emma with his thumb, "and Trashy dwarf," he pointed at himself. "Which brings us back to which little dwarf is our son's adoptive mom?"

She gave him her levelist, coolest, calmest, no time for anger or panic, gaze. "Evil Queen," she said evenly.

"Which one," he shot back without missing a beat, "The one that turns into a dragon or the one that turns into an old lady and jumps off a cliff being chased by birds."

"Are **all** your references going to be based on Disney movies?"

"I like the classics."

"I hate you Neal."

"I know." The wry little smirk wasn't there when he said it. Almost like…almost like he was finally getting it.

 

####

Aurora straightened herself and lifted her chin bravely. Defiantly in the right context. The fear that had been trembling through her since they'd made the decision to come to Maleficent was being shed--the brave young woman who'd faced down the god Loki and descended into the underworld to save Prince Phillip had finally returned. Standing tall despite her diminutive height. 

"Mine," Aurora declared. Her soul in exchange for Maleficent's freedom.

"What? No!" Mulan struggled again. David managed to free one hand and tried to yank the vines away.

"You need a soul right," Aurora asked. "Take mine."

"Regina!" Mulan was furious, and breaking through the vines with the kind of absurd strength usually reserved for mothers pulling cars off their children.

"Mulan," Aurora warned.

"Yes, **Mulan** ," Maleficent said, mimicking Aurora's tone. "If the girl wants to let me consume her soul **let** her. It's not like it's doing anything useful now." Green fire glinted in Maleficent's eyes and the fog cleared to form a path between her and Aurora. 

Regina raised a finger, "No one said anything about consuming."

"How do you expect me to go from mostly dead to totally alive without consuming a princess soul?"

"You share a soul."

Maleficent's whole face wrinkled in disgust. "You want me to **share**."

"I do."

"I don't," Mulan growled.

"You should," Regina noted, "If they share a soul then they're bound. One dies. So does the other."

"Leaving me without my revenge," Maleficent muttered.

"Leaving both of you **safe**. And **alive**. It's the best offer you're going to get today."

"And this was your plan all along," Maleficent asked.

"No. **My** plan was for Mulan and David to beat it out of you while I watched from safety and helped if necessary. But as we're all trapped in the miasma that is your lower half and I want to make it out of this cave alive I'm going with a new plan."

"This is a terrible plan," Mulan declared sourly.

"This is what we have," she growled back.

Maleficent tilted her head to the side, "It?"

"Yes." 

Maleficent was catching on. "Care to elaborate?"

"I don't know, are you going to stop choking those two?"

She sighed and the vines wrapped around Mulan and David dropped to the ground in two ragged heaps.

"We need your help," she started.

"So you sent these two idiots to beat it out of me?"

Regina ignored her, "Fairies are being murdered and we keep hearing about a war. As it sounds like something that's been going on a few years longer than my curse I thought you might have answers."

"I might." She could be so stupidly cryptic.

Regina huffed, "I'm sorry. I thought you understood we were making a deal here Maleficent. You give us answers and I give you skin."

"And **I'm** sorry, but your original plan was to, what was it? 'Beat it out of me?' Excuse me if I'm not just hopping at the idea of working with you."

"I'm different now."

"Less cleavage. I've noticed."

Regina crossed her arms over her chest. "I **mean** I'm…" Everyone leaned forward--curious to see what she'd say. "Less inclined to betray you."

"That's not instilling confidence."

"You have my oath then," Mulan announced. She'd reclaimed her sword and returned it to its sheath. "If you give us help than I will see to it Regina keeps her word."

"Information for freedom?"

"And you have to promise not to kill anyone," David chimed in.

Maleficent tried to protest but between the firm stares of Mulan **and** David even she wilted.

"Fine, if you get me out of here **and** make me living than I, Maleficent, Mistress of All Evil, promise to tell you what I know about this stupid fairy war **and** promise not to kill anyone."

"Ever," Mulan said.

Maleficent rolled her eyes, "Ever."

Regina looked past her old friend to settle her eyes on Aurora. The princess was staring at the back of Maleficent's head, her lips pulled together into a grimace. She was unnervingly serious--even if her stare seemed a little blank.

"Aurora," she spoke her friend's name softly.

Aurora's eyes snapped into focus and settled on her. Aurora was trying to hide the wealth of conflicted emotions and, being a very good princess, was doing a passable job.

"Are you ready," she asked gently.

Her answer was measured and even and it left no doubt that she was one of those Heroes. The capital letter kind. The sort set apart from the rest of them--destined for great victories and great loves and ultimately great tragedies. 

"I'm ready."

 

####

"But seriously. How evil are we talking here?"

Emma shrugged. "I don't know. Is there a scale?"

Neal shrugged too, "Well like my dad is supposed to be the Dark One. That's kind of the height of evil."

"He trained her," she supplied. "And then she cursed an entire land into a tiny town in Maine."

"So…pretty evil?"

"And she was the reason the most famous lovers in Chinese lore were are seperated for eternity."

"But does she torture people in the house and then hang their tongues outside?"

"Not…to my knowledge."

He nodded, like Regina had fallen on an appropriate point on his evil scale. Which. Okay. His scale was probably pretty skewed if his dad was the evilest evil to ever evil.

Emma laughed. Neal, falling onto the same wavelength, laughed too.

"This is kind of ridiculous," she said.

"Right? I mean I'm used to it. I grew up over there. But you. Emma your mom is Snow White."

"She talks to birds."

His eyes widened.

"No I'm serious. She actually can have a whole conversation with birds. And apparently all princesses can?"

"Seriously?"

"Regina had me use them like carrier pigeons when we were stuck over there. I had to spend an hour in the forest cawing like an idiot."

"So," he was looking at her with a mixture of skepticism and amusement. Sort of like the time she told him she could get away with stealing a cop car if she really wanted too. "You can talk to birds."

"Shut up."

"No. That's--okay its not the most normal thing I've heard today. But it could be up there."

"Neal--"

"Is it all birds or just some or--"

"All birds."

"Wow."

In the store Gold was haggling with the salewoman. Impressive because Emma was pretty sure the store wasn't the kind that normally haggled. He said something and then handed the bag to a shiny faced Henry who turned and grinned at them through the glass.

Emma smiled back and Neal waved.

"Did you ever think about me," she asked quietly. Surprised at her own need to fill the lull in the conversation.

Neal kept staring through the glass at their son. "All the time."

"When'd you finally stop?"

He sighed and she watched his reflection as he turned to face her. She could feel those eyes of his. Warm and too clever for their own good. "I never did Emma."

Henry shoved the bag he already owned into his new bag and came running out, holding it before him proudly.

 

####

Joining one soul to two bodies **hurt**. It hurt the bodies being bound and it hurt the one doing the binding. Things on the inside seemed to tear, instilling a profound sense of destruction that stole breath and blackened vision.

When it was done Regina found herself on her knees, magic so dark it verged on black, still clouding her vision. She felt a strong hand haul her up by her bicep and sure fingers moved through her hair. For a brief moment it was Emma with broken glasses looking at her with tear welling concern. Then she blinked and it was the Emma she had--her eyes clouded by confusion.

Then it was David. Angry but worried.

"Are you all right," he asked.

She swallowed and wished, deeply, to never have to swallow again. "Yes," she said, and her voice was hoarse. "Aurora?"

"I'm okay," the princess muttered. Her voice thick too.

"Barely," Mulan said, and Regina's visioned cleared enough to catch the daggers she was shooting her.

"It was all we had," she said.

"And now Aurora is bound to…her."

The "her" in question was too enraptured with her own naked form to notice Mulan's anger. Regina had forgotten how perfect Maleficent's hair was. It fell in a shower of golden curls around her shoulders. The horns that used to sprout horrofically from the top of her head were gone in this world, making her look, almost, mortal. But mortal women didn't carry themselves like Maleficent. There was the hint of a god in her--like all the fairies. Something awful and powerful.

She savored her own skin with an orgasmic moan that made David blush. "I forgot how good it felt to have **skin**."

"Could you remember how good it is to have clothes," Regina asked.

A sculpted eyebrow (how was it sculpted when she was only just back from the dead) rose mockingly. "So besides cursing everyone to be miserable the curse turned you into a prude?"

"No, but poor David only has one eye now. And he's having trouble taking it off all…that."

"I am not," he sputtered.

"You are," Maleficent said, "It's okay. I plan on enjoying looking at all this in a mirror for **hours** later."

"And now," Regina asked.

Maleficent sighed and snapped. Green and purple smoke whirled around her and when it was gone she was dressed in a a lovely dark gown that would have looked just wonderful as she strode through a royal court cursing anyone who dared gawk at her.

"We live in **Maine** Maleficent."

"So?"

"So you need something--" Regina didn't have the energy to explain. She waved her hand and Malecient was suddenly dressed in  a slinky black dress and knee high boots.

Maleficent picked at the dress and looked at Regina significantly. 

"Oh fine." Another wave and a very tasteful, if chunky, amethyst necklace settle around Maleficent's neck. "Happy?"

"I suppose it will work for now. So," she looked around, "How do we get out of this cave."

"First," Aurora spoke up, still breathless. She clung to Mulan to stay upright, "You tell us about the war. Who are the fairies fighting?"

"Surface first Sleeping Beauty. Then you get your answers."

 

####

They were nearly back to Neal's apartment. They'd been walking around SoHo for over a hour and a half and Henry was now dragging his feet. He'd already given Emma his new bag, and as sensitive as she was to parental connections lately, she decided to take that as a win. He hadn't even thought to ask Neal to carry it for him.

But he was still fascinated with Neal. Acting like his every stupid story was new and as interesting as any of the ones Emma had told him.

"I never did."

Neal's admission was running around in Emma's head. Jumping up and down on top of all the other huge chunks of news in her life. Like he was trying to compete with Mary Margaret, Gold, and even Regina for most world shattering news she needed to deal with. 

"I never did."

Who--what right did Neal have to say that to her. Acting like he could love her--or just think about her--for the last ten years. Act like he had that **choice** after abandoning her.

He didn't. He wasn't **allowed** to. Not after what he'd done. Not after how deeply he'd hurt her.

"I never did."

Like…was he trying to compete? Did he know she had an Evil Queen giving her dopey love eyes every day? Did he get that she was finally being pulled into something…real…or honest or whatever was going on with her and Regina? Was he trying to blow that up?

The sick son of a--

Her phone rattled in her front pocket, causing her to yelp in surprise. Everyone eyed her warily and Neal grinned. "Having fun," he asked.

The urge to shoot him the finger was strong. Instead she waved him off and stepped back to watch him and the others go inside.

She'd glanced at the caller as she pulled her phone out, and kind of wanted a little privacy when she explained to Regina that her definitely never ever in the picture ex was now front-fucking-center.

"Hey? Did you get my message--"

"I saw you called. I've been busy underground. Are you okay?"

Emma raised an eyebrow. "I mean…yes? Should I not be?"

Regina sighed.

"And why were you underground?"

"We were following a lead." Someone on the other end of the phone snorted loudly. "Killian betrayed us."

"He **is** a pirate."

"Right. He betrayed us and his boat is gone Emma."

She tensed up, suddenly feeling the need to keep Henry in her sight at all times. She jogged for the door.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying he's coming for Gold. Do with that what you will."

She was saying Gold could be snuffed out of their lives if she just looked the other way. And Emma would have loved a chance, even just a second, to mull over that prospect, because she was pretty damn sure it would only be helpful in the current moment if one of her biggest problems was, you know, dead.

But she didn't get a chance to consider it because as she walked into the building foyer she was unceremoniously shoved into a wall. She heard Neal and Henry cry out. Then she saw Gold's bright look of surprise as Killian Jone's slid the long sharp point of his hook deep into his chest.

"Regina," she panted, "I'll have to call you back."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the feedback and your fantastic patience! Feedback is absolute fuel for writers—we thrive on the stuff. So whenever I get it I’m reminded of one of the many reasons I do this! If you’re looking to engage feel free to leave feedback at Ao3 or on my blog at Tumblr.
> 
> Also someone asked why Regina could bring Maleficent back and not Daniel. Maleficent=Undead Mistress of Evil/Fairy Queen and Regina is a powerful sorceress with the power of Hermes’ helm running through her veins. Daniel=Definitely dead and when he died Regina hadn’t even touched magic.

The line went dead.

Water splashed softly against the sides of boats in the harbor.

Maleficent looked from Regina to her phone and back again. "I don't know what just happened but judging by the stupid look on your face it wasn't good."

It wasn't. Killian had found Emma and Henry.

And then the phone had gone dead.

And she couldn't do anything about it. She wanted, desperately, to get in a car and drive all day until she had her son in her arms and her eyes on Emma.

But instead…instead she stood there staring at her phone.

"He got to them didn't he," Aurora asked.

She could only nod.

"He won't hurt Henry or Emma," Mulan insisted.

"And he wouldn't shove us off a cliff either would he," Aurora fired back sourly. "If Mulan and I leave now we can be there in four hours."

Part of Regina, the bit that could be a callous and pragmatic mayor, told her to tell them to wait. Emma **would** call back and they'd know more and save themselves a trip.

But the day had already been long enough and Regina was too exhausted and emotionally keyed up to tell them to wait. She plucked her car keys out of her pocket and tossed them to Mulan. "Be careful," she intoned.

Mulan nodded grimly. "Call us when you hear back?"

They jogged back towards Regina's car, leaving her standing on the dock beside a mildly confused Maleficent. "Hook," the newly resurrected sorceress asked, "that the cute little pirate always trying to murder Rumpelstiltskin?”

"He is."

"And you're worried he succeeded because…?” She snorted, “I know a lot's changed but I seem to remember you **hating** the imp."

" **That** hasn't changed. But he was with people I…" she winced, "care about."

Maleficent laughed again—this time throaty and fully bodied. "Seriously? You actually care? About another person? That’s alive? The curse was more awful than I thought."

 

####

It didn't matter who was who or why they were doing what they were doing. When one guy had an inch of hook jammed into another guy's chest and her son was watching it all Emma was going to stop it. 

She grabbed the fire extinguisher off the floor and brought it down like the heel of a shoe onto a bug. The flat end slammed into Hook's head, sending bone rattling vibrations up through the metal.

It was one solid hit to the back of the head. Enough to knock out just about anyone. She didn't catch his eyes rolling up into the back of his head--being that she was behind him. But she watch his whole body go loose before he slumped over, his hook sliding effortlessly out of Gold's chest.

Gold sighed, like someone had gently pushed the air out of him.

“You all okay,” she asked reflexively—her eyes darting around the room to take in her son, his father and the two men in front of her.

The dazed wide-eyed look everyone gave her said no.

Emma dropped the fire extinguisher to the ground and blindly reached her hand out behind her, expectantly waiting for Henry to come grab it. She refused to take her eyes off Gold and Hook though. They were the threat and she put herself between them and her son as soon as she felt his small damp hand in her own.

Henry tried to peak around her arm to get a better look at what had happened. “Is that—?”

“Captain Hook,” Neal said grimly. He ignored the surprised look Emma and Gold both gave him and wadded up his scarf so he could press it against his dad’s wound. “Not sure how he got out of Neverland though.”

“His boat,” Henry helpfully supplied.

Neal glanced back, surprisingly **not** alarmed. Just raised and eyebrow and said with a teasing smirk, “You know him too, huh kid?”

“He put my mom’s car in a tree the other day.”

Neal looked up at Emma and she averted his eyes, focusing on the unconscious pirate instead. “Guess we should…tie him up?” She wasn’t really clear on how she was supposed to handle fairy tale characters tearing their way through New York City to enact a three hundred year old plan for revenge. Calling the cops just seemed…wrong.

“You and me can put him down in the basement. Henry you want to help your grandfather up to my apartment?”

Emma wasn’t crazy about leaving her son alone with Gold, but having him with them as they hid a body seemed just as bad. 

When Henry and Gold had made it onto the elevator, grandfather leaning heavily on grandson, she took Hook’s feet and Neal took his shoulders. “Lead on,” she said.

They started forward.

Neal stopped. “My dad look okay to you?”

Gold looked sweaty and pasty like he’d just been stabbed. “He’s the Dark One Neal. He’ll be fine.” She pushed forward, but Neal stood still. Hook folded up uncomfortably between them.

“When he had magic maybe.” Neal dropped Hook’s top half and reached for his phone.

Hook moaned.

Still holding his legs Emma studied him, “Can I guy get two concussions in ten minutes?”

Neal was too busy ignoring her and dialing 911 to answer. She had to drop Hook’s other half to grab his phone before he could hit SEND. “Gold doesn’t need an ambulance.”

Neal huffed. Suddenly agitated. “Gimme the phone Emma.”

It set her on edge and she stood taller. “Not if you’re gonna use it to call an ambulance! Ambulance means cops and cops mean questions.”

“He was stabbed!”

“By a fictional pirate from Never Neverland! Your dad walked! Right up the stairs! He’s **fine**.”

 

####

He wasn’t fine. When they got back upstairs they found Henry traumatized, Gold furious, and his wound oozing something yellow and acrid.

“It’s poison,” he said through gritted teeth. “No known cure.”

Henry was hugging the wall. Pale and confused. Random assaults on his mom’s aside Emma didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so…violent. It had shaken him more than she’d liked.

Neal was trembling almost as badly as his son. And as Gold. Like he actually cared about the guy who’d abandoned him through a portal so he could keep some super powers.

“There’s got to be—“ Neal ran his hands through his hair. It stuck up in every direction. “There’s gotta be something right? Magic?” He almost whispered the word. Lowering his voice and looking at Gold like his answer was gonna hold the secrets of the universe.

“Not here,” Emma said gently. “There’s no magic outside of Storybrooke.”

“Then we get him back there.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

“How? It’ll take hours. Plane **or** car. And no offense,” she said to Gold, “I don’t see you surviving a trip that long.”

“The pirate’s boat,” Gold insisted. “It got him here didn’t it? It can take us back.”

“You got a lot of experience sailing magic ships?”

Neal shook his head, “No, but I do.” He stood up, nodding to himself like the plan he was forming actually made sense. “We get  to Hook’s boat and we can save my dad.”

 

####

Regina’s hit END on her phone, and rather than explain her conversation with Emma to the group of very interested people sitting in her living room she elected to stare out the window in dumb shock.

When she’d called Emma to warn her of Killian’s betrayal there hadn’t been time to catch up. Forty minutes later when Emma called her back there had.

At least been a little time.

Enough for Emma to give Regina news that shattered the foundation of her whole world and ruined any and every plan she’d ever have.

“If you look closely, you can actually **see** her descending into a fit of dramatic hysterics,” Maleficent stage whispered.

She was sitting on Regina’s couch and enjoying a coke, which she found “odd” and “refreshing.” She sipped it through a straw. Loudly.

“Regina?”

Maleficent, being the Mistress of All Evil, was lounging across more than half the couch, leaving Snow White to sit primly on the single empty cushion. It was a distractingly curious dichotomy the two created. Maleficent in her sharply cut black dress and Snow in her oversized white sweater.

Snow's head was tilted just so, her face a mask of concern at strong counterpoint to Maleficent's abject disinterest. "Regina what happened?"

What happened was that Emma had learned that Rumpel's idiot son was in fact **her** idiot ex. What happened was Henry's birthfather had now been thrust back into their lives. What happened was Henry now had a neat little biological family if he absolutely desired it. 

Rumpel's stabbing. Killian's betrayal. Maleficent's return. None of it mattered because the people she cared about most were in the hands of a…a…

Okay. Yes. She didn't know WHAT Baelfire was. Beyond a deadbeat father and a serial abandoner of people in Regina's life.

But the unknown of him didn't matter. Not after Emma had told her that Neal had forever ruined her for relationships. Not after Henry had decided to hate **both** his mothers in a fit of pre-adolescent angst. Things were too fragile. Regina's place in the tiny family she'd carved out was too insecure.

The man's sudden arrival spelled only doom.

"Regina!"

David had come out from behind the couch to shout in her face. She startled, her hand, still clutching the phone, flying to her chest. "Yes, what," she asked sourly.

"What happened? Are Emma and Henry okay?"

"They're fine."

Snow piped up, "And Neal?"

"Who's Neal," David asked.

Regina was curious too. "Yes dear. Who is Neal?"

"I…" She flushed and wilted—Mary Margaret shining through in a display of gutlessness.

"Who is Emma for that matter?" Maleficent had finished her coke and was pondering her nails, casually magicing a whole array of colors onto them.

"My daughter," Snow said with pride.

Maleficent rolled her eyes.

"We're getting away from the point," Regina snapped. "You knew about Neal already?"

"Emma called me." That pride hadn’t left Snow's voice. As if she were pleased that it was **Snow** Emma had called with the news.

Which only helped to further rankle and unravel Regina. She tried to loom over her, hoping her sharp tone and angry glare would put a little humility back into Snow's frame. "And you didn't tell me?"

It backfired. "I'm sorry Regina. In case you missed it you were busy resurrecting an evil fairy! What was I supposed to do?!”

"Toddle down into the cave after her," Maleficent offered.

She was the most unhelpful stupid fairy--

"I really feel I'm missing something there," David interjected. "Like, for instance, I don’t know…who the heck is Neal?!”

 

####

The plan had been for Neal to go get the car while Emma hovered over the wounded Gold and Henry rooted through his dad’s belongings and pointedly avoided his new grandfather. But the longer Neal was gone the antsier Emma became. 

Memories of the **last** time he’d said he’d be “right back” kept running through her head—refusing to be ignored. Gold didn’t help. Panting in pain and whispering that **Emma** had the power to fix everything.

“Because he loves you,” Gold insisted.

Henry had been out of earshot, watching his grandfather warily and bouncing with nervous and worried energy.

The mood in the room had finally gotten to Emma and she’d jogged down the four flights of stairs to check on her ex.

He hadn’t run, but he wasn’t waving down cabs or stealing a getaway car either. He was just…standing there. Waiting. Bouncing on the balls of his feet and biting his lip in that same nervous way Henry did.

And he got worse when he spied Emma.

All the color draining out of him for what had to be the third time in their **very** long day. “Emma what are you—“ he looked around. Casing the surrounding area like they were robbing a convenience store and the cops would be there any second.

“Checking on you. I thought you were getting us a car.”

“I—look go back upstairs. I’ll come get you when its here.”

“When its—“ She didn’t move. Just stared at him with what she was pretty sure was a perfect impression of Regina’s “you’re an idiot” face.

“Someone’s dropping a car off. If you’ll go back upstairs I’ll come and get you when they’re here.”

The way he worded it made it sound like a seedy underworld friend would be squealing to a stop in front of them any second in a ten-year-old beater of a car with a knock in the engine.

What **actually** happened was a gorgeous woman showed up, kissed Neal on the cheek and asked what was wrong.

And if her familiarity wasn’t bad enough Neal **sank** into her. Leaning on her for support in all kinds of very intimate emotional and physical ways.

Emma stepped back.

Neal remembered she was there and tried to smile. But just looking at Emma seemed to hurt him, and the smile couldn’t even get to his eyes.

The woman’s smile was warmer. Curious and confused, but kind. She extended a hand. Introduced herself as his **fiancé**. Said the word like it wasn’t a knife digging into Emma’s stomach and shredding all the good and hopeful parts of her.

She was grateful magic didn’t exist in this part of the world. Emotions she knew pretty easily conjured the stuff were welling up inside of her and if they’d been back in Storybrooke she was absolutely fucking positive storm clouds would have gathered and thunder would have crashed and Neal and his **fiancé** , Tamara, would have been turned into woodland creatures.

The lies that slipped off Neal’s tongue as he talked to his **fiancé** were so familiar it hurt. The jumpiness. The caginess. He was hiding Emma and Henry and his dad from her just as he’d hidden her from all of them. And now Emma could see it. She wasn’t the one being duped. She was doing all the duping herself. 

She tried a tight smile that probably looked like a grimace every time Tamara glanced at her. Tried not to run off. Even though everything in her said she should toss Henry over her shoulder and just **run**.

Eventually the lies were good enough for the woman, and she ducked her head gullibly and walked away, chancing only one more curious glance back at Emma and Neal.

Emma’s jaw was clenched so tight her teeth were gonna crack. “Something slip your mind there Neal?”

He was still watching his fiancé’s back. Like he cared. “I was gonna tell you.”

“Clearly.”

“You were…”

“What?”

“You were thinking about other stuff and it just…it seemed like it could wait.”

Okay…admittedly…she’d been thinking about Regina. 

Worrying about how to explain Neal to her more than she would have if they hadn’t gotten drunk the night before and almost made out on a roof. And she was thinking about her again there on the street. Her memory immediately leaping to that wounded look Regina would get on her face. Like the whole world had conspired to shit on her and she was surprised by that fact.

“See,” Neal interjected. “You’re thinking about it again.”

Not “it,” she wanted to say. “Her.”

 

####

Hook’s boat smelled like rum and fish. Something Gold kept reminding everyone of. Loudly. Often. 

Consequently she and Neal learned they could still communicate non-verbally when they silently agreed to move him below deck.

He’d landed in what, she presumed, had been Regina’s quarters. He’d refused to sleep in Hook’s out of principal and this had been the next closest one. Clothes, Regina’s clothes, still littered the floor and furniture. Sometimes a breeze from above deck would be caught, wiping away the stench of the boat and replacing it with the sour apple and sweat smell of Regina’s dirty laundry.

It was like she’d abandoned the room, leaving it in the middle of the day. Moldy bread and desiccated fruit on a plate. A dried out pot of ink and a forgotten fountain pen. Even a pile of treasure that looked a lot less flashy in the muddy light filtering through the deck. It was all just lying around, painting a sad little portrait of Hook—a guy who couldn’t even bother to clean up the ship he claimed to love.

She poked at the pen. “You think someone would have cleaned up. They’ve been back in Storybrooke for weeks.”

“They must have had things on their mind,” Gold grunted. He tried to sit up and flinched in pain.

“How’s the poison?”

“Slowly killing me. Have any other simpleminded questions to ask, Sheriff?”

She shrugged, “Have an idea of what you need to save yourself?”

“My shop.”

“That’s it?”

He was sweaty and greasy looking and the poison has sapped the color from his skin leaving it dull and sallow, but he could still peg Emma with that hard glare of his. “That’s it,” he said evenly.

They didn’t talk much after that. The boat rocked sickeningly as they cut across the water. Moving so fast that they met and flew over waves like they were in a motorboat.

Emma remained below deck. Ostensibly to watch Gold, but mainly to keep from getting seasick.

When they finally passed into Storybrooke a shudder of magic ran over the entire boat. Emma’s locket burned hot then cold and stars danced in front of her eyes as the magic swam over her. Like being caught in the middle of a river. Waves of water she’d survived, but she staggered and braced herself against the bed frame under the onslaught of magic.

“Getting a little sensitive are we?”

She side eyed Gold and straightened up again.

“Must be all that spellwork you did with Regina. The gates are opened now dearie. You’d best train it or—“

She snapped, “Or I’ll what?” 

He was so God-damned serene sometimes. Watching her with a mixture of bemusement and thoughtfulness. “You might hurt someone.”

 

####

Regina did not go down to the docks to wait for the ship with Snow and Charming. Sitting around wringing her hands and acting like an idiot version of Penelope wasn’t going to help anyone. 

Rooting through Rumpel’s shop would.

While the others waited for Emma and Henry she worked on the puzzle she’d been presented with.

Nightshade wasn’t a curable poison. It was, in fact, notorious for being fatal without exception. But Rumpel had demanded to be brought back to Storybrooke—brought back to his shop. Which meant something lurked there that had the power to hold back death.

Something—

“What are **you** doing here?”

Rumpel’s girl, Belle, had come in from the back of the shop. She was scowling at Regina and teetering on heels about three inches taller than should be safe to walk on.

“Just browsing,” she said snidely.

“Leave.” There was steel in the girl—something Regina often forgot. But there had to be for her to put up with—to be in **love** with—Rumpelstiltskin. 

Regina idly spun a globe with a finger and shrugged, her eyes still scanning the shelves. “Can’t.”

“Regina,” the girl started, her name falling pleasantly enough from her lips.

She sighed. Leaning on a glass countertop she openly appraised Belle. “Talked to your boyfriend lately?”

The girl bristled.

“He’s dying. And while I’d love to let him die I have an unfortunate obligation to help save his life.”

“Why?” No questions about how he was dying. Just sharp focus suddenly directed at Regina. “You hate him. You imprisoned me for decades just to **hurt** him.”

“Water under the bridge.”

Belle continued to scowl. “Why,” she repeated.

“Someone I **don’t** hate asked for my help.”

“Emma.” It wasn’t a question.

And it was Regina’s turn to bristle. She stood up straighter. “While I do enjoy chatting I have the sudden urge to stick you back in the cell where Jefferson found you.”

Before Belle could make an attempt to respond—to accuse or conciliate or just open her mouth—a powerful wave of magic skittered through Regina. It was blazing fire searing through her veins and chased by anger she could only describe as…delicious.

She heard Belle as if through a tunnel. Her voice faraway and ringing off stone walls. What was more present was Emma. Suddenly back in Storybrooke and with the two of them bound by their matching lockets every bit of Emma was unshielded and coursing through Regina. She didn’t have time to put up a wall. Emotions were flying too quickly, too furiously, for her to grasp.

She leaned against the countertop again. The glass split under the heels of her hand.

Magic lanced through her, glowing in her veins. Belle looked from the shattered glass biting into the bandage on Regina’s hand to the pulse of magic just beneath the skin and coursing through her arm.

Belle stepped back, her hip brushing against a pile of maps on another countertop. They tumbled to the ground, drawing Regina’s attention. The girl gasped and looked at Regina…looked at her with **fear**. The Dark One’s girlfriend, a woman who literally **courted evil** was terrified of her.

Or for her. She couldn’t be sure. Couldn’t do anything but focus on all of Emma’s magic, channeling through her simply because the other woman was back in Storybrooke and upset.

Had Emma just never been this upset before? No. It had to be coming back. They’d just become accustomed to each other’s presence and some how failed to notice when it was gone. Now it was just making itself know—

Another pulse of magic ripped through her and the glass beneath her hand broke apart. Shards into the showcase below.

She tried to open her mouth and say something. To warn Belle. But her tongue wouldn’t move and her jaw was rigid. All she could do was wave her hand. Will the woman out of the shop before Regina did something awful by accident.

It wasn’t as awful as that first time with another Emma. Then Emma had been consciously forcing an explosion of magic into the locket, and into Regina.

This time it was just…bleeding out of Emma. Like a bad leak in an old roof, and Regina was the bucket—bracing herself against a shattered counter and collecting the torrent.

Trying to keep it from overflowing. Emma’s magic was raw, and if it flowed out of Regina it would annihilate Gold’s whole shop. Or more. She couldn’t be sure. It writhed inside of her. Fought to escape and envelop her.

So she did what she’d told another Emma to do so long ago.

**Focus.**

She sucked in a breath. **Used** the magic squirming inside of her. She’d come to Gold’s shop to figure out how he planned to survive, and now she had a wealth of magic at her disposal to help.

She shaped and honed it into a knife and when she finally opened her eyes to survey the shop once more she smiled. Sparks of magic skittered across her eyes.

She could see Gold’s plan.

And she knew precisely how to foil it.

 

####

David, Mary Margaret and Ruby were waiting for them on the dock. Mary Margaret was watching them disembark with carefully considered emotion. Too exact to be natural. She broke away from her husband and her best friend as soon as Emma’s feet touched the ground and wrapped Emma in a hug.

“You’re safe,” she whispered into her ear.

Awkwardly Emma patted her back with her one free arm. “Yeah, was never in any danger. Guy’s a drunk pirate.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes flickered over to Gold, whom Neal was carefully helping down from the boat. It was a sharp, dangerous look. Not the kind the fluffy Snow White of Storybrooke or the timid Mary Margaret gave. More like the look in that woman’s eyes when she took down a giant ogre with a single arrow.

In an instance she was…dangerous. “Not who I was worried about,” she said quietly. Then Mary Margaret shuddered, the dangerous woman disappearing behind a dopy smile.

“Glad you’re back,” David said, pulling Emma into another hug before she could protest.

Ruby mutely smiled and nodded in agreement. 

“Yes, we’re all delighted Ms. Swan survived a sojourn into the city,” Gold grumbled. He pointedly did not point out his own impending doom. 

It was pretty easy for them to see anyways. The guy was still sweating profusely and the poison was still oozing out of the wound, creating a smell that had Neal and Gold both wrinkling their noses. Gold slumped against his son dramatically and no one, even David, moved to help.

Until Henry bounded off the ship smiling like there wasn’t a guy standing at death’s door two feet away. “Did you guys see me bring the boat in,” he asked exuberantly.

“By yourself,” Mary Margaret asked in mock surprise.

He nodded but looked to Neal, “My dad helped.”

There was a weird look Mary Margaret and David then exchanged. Communication passed between them that Emma had no grasp of. She frowned, but didn’t speak up. Right now they had to get Gold to his shop to keep him alive.

Her parents, and their clear concern over Neal’s arrival, would have to wait.

She went back to help Neal carry his dad, shooting her parents both a challenge as she passed by them. Ruby gave them a wide berth and went to punch Henry lightly on the shoulder. “What do you say to a milkshake why they sort things out?”

He opened his mouth to protest and Ruby seemed to give him some kind of…look. Emma had no idea how, but one minute Henry was pulling his normal shtick—wanting to be in the hottest part of the fire—and the next he was being guided away from the pier by Ruby without complaint.

She was gonna have to ask her her secret when she was done with Gold.

She took up his other arm to help Neal and guided him toward’s David’s truck.

“This is Neal by the way. Henry’s father and Gold’s…”

“I’m his son,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “Nice to meet you.”

Mary Margaret was squinting, “You’re not how I pictured you.”

He glanced to Emma and back to her, his eyebrows raised, “Is that a good thing?”

“Chiseled,” she said, still squinting. “I imagined you more chiseled.”

“So bad thing then.” He yanked the truck door open and carefully pushed his wincing father in.

“And taller. Emma why is he so short?”

“Okay,” David interjected, guiding his wife around to the driver’s side. “Let’s save comments about Emma’s ex for after we’ve saved Gold.”

David and Mary Margaret squeezed onto the bench in the cab next to Gold, leaving Emma and Neal to the bed of the truck. Riding in the back was becoming a habit. Like she was trying to make up for all those times she got kicked out of the bed as a kid for fear she’d crack her skull open.

“That’s Snow White,” Neal asked when they were on the road and the wind was loud enough to keep their conversation private. 

“She lost her heart. She’s not normally so…”

“Judgmental?”

“Pretty much. I mean. Maybe. I don’t know. I knew Mary Margaret, who definitely **wasn’t** judgmental. That,” she pointed towards the cab, “is Snow White, who as far as I can tell is good with a bow, will always find her husband and has a long complicated history with Henry’s other mom.”

“Who was obsessed with that whole ‘fairest of them all’ thing.”

“Regina is definitely not that…okay she’s pretty conceited, but not murder Mary Margaret conceited. She tried to kill her because she ‘ruined her life.’ Far as I can tell it involved Mary Margaret saying stuff she shouldn’t have to psychotic witches.”

Neal nodded sagely, “Those psychotic witches man. You can never trust ‘em.”

 

####

Eight minutes later Emma was thinking she couldn’t trust the non-psychotic witches either. They carried Gold into his shop and found it completely empty, the corners shrouded in shadows and glass all over the floor from a broken counter.

“Nice place,” Neal joked.

Something bad had happened in the shop. She could feel magic like Regina’s—so cold she half expected her breath to fog. “What happened?”

“Nothing good,” Gold growled. “Belle should be here.”

Neal mouthed over his dad’s head, “Belle?”

“His girlfriend,” she mouthed back. He looked like every other kid who ever found out their parent had a sexual drive. Surprised and vaguely disgusted.

“Regina should be here too.” David knelt and gingerly picked up a piece of glass, glaring at it with his one good eye. “Said she was on her way.”

Mary Margaret was surveying the shop like a hunter searching for prey, her mind completely focused on the scene at hand. “You don’t think…Maleficent?”

David grimaced. “Possible. I’ll go to Regina’s and check. Are you all okay with—“ he jerked his chin at Gold.

“We’ll be fine, David. Just call us when you find her.”

David left, Mary Margaret started compulsively tidying and Emma and Neal helped Gold into the back room of the shop, where a sad little cot was pressed against a wall of shelves filled with knick knacks from another world. She tried not to let her eyes linger on any one thing for too long—half afraid she’d get her face melted for her troubles.

“Is that a pair of fairy wings,” Neal asked, his eyes on a flimsy pair of wings that looked like they belonged on the back of a little kid’s fairy godmother costume.

“She’s not using them anymore,” Gold said. 

As one Neal and Emma dropped Gold onto the cot. 

“That’s the Papa I remember.”

“They were a gift,” he insisted—a little petulantly.

Neal ignored his dad and bounced around the room, peering at everything but not really taking stock of anything. “All of these gifts?”

“No. But I had my reasons Bae.”

He rolled his eyes, “Sure you did. Just like you had a reason for abandoning me.”

Gold inhaled sharply, his eyes flaring with…it wasn’t anger. If Emma hadn’t known better she would have called it grief. “I’ve changed.”

“He’s not the only one abandoning people,” Mary Margaret said. She was back from the front, standing in the doorway clutching a dust pan. “Broom?”

Neal stepped between his dad and Mary Margaret, “Is that supposed to be aimed at me?”

She laughed, and spotting the broom lying against a cupboard, went to retrieve it. “Smarter too, Emma. I imagined him **much** smarter.”

“Mary Margaret…” It had been a long day after a very long night and Emma was too tired to fight with her former best friend about this. “Let it go.”

“What, like he let you go?”

“Or like you let me go. Or me Henry. No one in this room can really judge anyone for abandonment.”

“I was protecting you. You were protecting Henry. **They** both did it for selfish reasons.”

“And you aren’t selfish,” Gold asked. He’d pushed himself up and was leaning against the shelves, his chest sagging. “I seem to recall a little girl spoiling a woman’s life so she could have a new mother.”

Mary Margaret flushed.

He raised his good arm and ran his fingers across the edge of a shelf. “Starting wars just so she could have a kingdom too. Wasting lives in a battle with a queen.”

“I’ve paid for my selfishness. What have you ever paid for?”

“What have I paid for,” Gold asked mockingly, “What has **she** paid for? She cursed you to this land and now she has her son, and her…” he glanced at Emma, “friends. What was Regina’s cost?”

Emma stepped between them, “All right, enough.”

But Gold wasn’t done, leaning forward, “Doesn’t it kill you that she destroyed your life and gets away with it.”

“Gold shut up—“

“Doesn’t it kill you that she gets to win?”

“I said shut—“

“Doesn’t it kill you that she gets Em—“

“Yes!” Mary Margaret threw the broom and dust pan to the ground, stalking angrily towards Gold. “Yes it **kills** me. But—“

“But what dearie? Too afraid to take your revenge?”

“Gold if you don’t—“

“Papa—“

“Or do you just need the means?”

There was a moment of silence. A stillness as Emma, Gold and even Neal all stopped talking and waited to hear what Mary Margaret had to say.

Because it made sense. Wanting to hurt Regina after what she’d done to Mary Margaret. It made **sense**. And she didn’t have a heart now. She wouldn’t be able to hide her feelings behind good intentions and “love.” There would just be cold, hard desire.

But before Mary Margaret could speak steady chilling applause broke the silence. A slow clap that drew all their attention to another corner of the room, where the darkness was like a shroud. 

Regina emerged from the shadows and Emma flashed back to the boat when Regina’d killed a man with a thought. There was the same unsettling sense about her.

This was Regina with the upper hand. A predator toying with its prey.

“That was quite the performance dear.”

Mary Margaret lifted her chin defiantly. “I wasn’t acting.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Her eyes were on Gold. “Riling her up like that. Trying to get her to kill me?”

“What good would that have done,” Emma asked.

“Would have made me feel better,” Gold groused—pouting now that whatever plan he’d apparently had had been discovered.

“Only if she used this to do it.” Regina produced a weird black and white candle with a wick on both ends.

Mary Margaret started. “That’s—“

“Some very dark magic. Save a life by taking a life. Mine for yours Rumpel?” Regina was way too amused by the idea. The humor coloring her question.

“Fair trade.”

She tightened her grip on the candle and it snapped in two, a gust of frigid magic flowing out of it. “That plan’s off the table.”

Neal glanced down at his dad, “You were gonna kill someone to save yourself?”

“Bae…”

Only trying to tell his son he was changed and better didn’t exactly work when he’d just been caught trying to murder Henry’s mom. Neal ran from the room, and part of her wanted to shout after him that that was the only thing he was good at.

But the other part of her wanted to stay in the room to make sure Gold didn’t try anything else. He was going to be getting more desperate now that his big plan had failed, and Emma, having made her living hunting desperate people, knew full well that the most desperate were also the most dangerous.

 

####

She wouldn’t say seeing Emma again was like a balm. That was romantic twaddle that Snow or David would espouse. But seeing her alive and well **was** soothing. It wasn’t just because she’d been worried. She was adult enough to admit she **had** been worried about Emma.

It was Emma’s magic. The way it…softened when she saw Regina. No longer blistering hot it lapped at the edges of Regina contentedly.

Emma likely didn’t even know it was happening. 

When Gold was either dead or living and they’d both slept for a few days she was going to have to sit Emma down and teach her how to—not just control all that magic, but contain it. 

Otherwise they’d end up having to build a cage in **this** universe. The image of **this** Emma trapped in that cage, the passion and fight draining out of her, was not one Regina wanted to see made reality

“So if he can’t use that evil candle,” Emma nodded at the broken candle in Regina’s hand, “how’s he supposed to save himself.”

“There’s no way,” Rumpel declared dramatically. “ **That** was my only chance.”

“The Blue Fairy,” Snow said—her eyes narrowed in thought. She nodded to herself. “She’s the most powerful—she’s a fairy. If anyone can help she can.”

“You maybe, not us.” Regina tried not to let bitterness color her voice.

She was fairly certain she failed.

Emma sighed. “Right. Mary Margaret get to the nuns. See if they can help. And I guess I should track down Neal before he does something stupid. Regina you good to stay here and make sure **he** doesn’t do anything stupid?” 

“We’ll be fine.”

Emma nodded. Started away. Paused. “No murdering him while we’re gone.”

“I—“

Emma glared.

“Fine.”

Snow dashed out the door that Neal had gone through and Emma started to follow but stopped again. Looked over her shoulder. **Stared** in that maddening way of hers—as if she could see straight through Regina. “Would the Blue Fairy really refuse to help?”

Regina thought back to another fairy. One who’d wanted to save her—even if it meant disobeying the Blue Fairy. “She has before.”

Emma frowned. It was small. Rumpel didn’t even catch it. 

 

####

Emma had to jog to catch up with Mary Margaret. “The Blue Fairy,” she said, “be careful.”

Mary Margaret tilted her head, “You’re worried about the Blue Fairy?”

“Regina said—“

“Regina was the **Evil Queen**. If Blue didn’t help her she had good reason.”

“Right. I know. Regina used to be evil and Blue shits rainbows. Just…she hasn’t been exactly honest with us ‘good guys’ lately okay? Be careful.”

In a move that surprised both of them, Mary Margaret didn’t argue. She’d done that a lot since getting a head full of Snow White jammed into her brain. Disagreed with just about every little thing Emma tried to do.

Having her just nod, having that one little moment where she acknowledged that **maybe** the woman who was technically her daughter but the **exact same age** might know what she was talking about—it was nice. It felt like old times where Mary Margaret hung on her every word when it came to all things action adventure related.

Mary Margaret resumed her jog towards the convent and Emma started to follow Neal.

Then realized she actually had no idea where the hell Neal was. She was tempted to walk back into the shop, metaphorical tail between her legs, but she’d kind of made a big show of being a bossy badass with a plan a minute earlier, and walking back in was seriously going to compromise that image.

Her locket was frosty against her skin—still chilled from Regina destroying that dark magic candle. She plucked at it in irritation, the tips of her fingers going a little numb at the touch.

How the hell was she supposed to find Neal?

It wasn’t like he was just going to run away. They were stuck in a tiny town. He didn’t even have a room at Granny’s yet. He didn’t even know where the **bars** were.

Wandering the woods made sense, or a walk down the beach. But that was a lot of ground to cover for just one woman and she couldn’t just—

A bird sitting on the roof of Gold’s shop squawked curiously and Emma closed her eyes at the impending feeling of shame.

She looked up at it. “Hey,” she started.

Okay. It was a lot of shame. And first, second and third-hand embarrassment. 

The bird tilted its little head.

“You wouldn’t…be able to help me track down a guy would you?”

The bird squawked again, and Emma died a little inside.

Because the bird definitely said **yes**.

 

####

It was an uneasy peace. 

Regina sat, legs primly crossed, on a chair by Rumpel’s cot. She didn’t look at him. Tried to ignore the stifled groans of pain. Focused on the poison. She could smell its foul magic. It was a persistent stench like the rot of a dead animal trapped under a house.

She reached out, carefully, with her own magic. A curious trek forward, eyes downcast, focus sharpened to a point.

“It won’t help,” he muttered, shifting on his cot and trying not to poke at the wound. “If it was just a matter of magic don’t you think I would have healed myself?”

“I wasn’t trying to heal you.” She picked at the hem of her skirt. She’d changed after the earlier venture into the mines for Maleficent. Chosen a coal gray skirt with a soft silk lining that laid pleasantly against her bare thighs. “I was studying it.”

“Be more delicate. That was like studying an ant with a sledgehammer.”

“Really?” She let her magic wander of him, picking at the poison and his own dark magic alike. “I thought **this** was the sledgehammer.”

He just gritted his teeth—refusing to show more pain. “You done?”

“Maybe.” She poked again and earned a grimace from Rumpel. “Okay, now I’m done.”

They both relaxed…at least they acted as relaxed as they could in the circumstances. Rumpel was dying, at the hands of Regina’s friend, and there was nothing she could do. No cure she’d have the time to put together while he still lived.

They needed…time.

She looked up to study him. “I should curse you.”

“Don’t you think death is enough?”

“If you’re in a sleeping curse you’re not dying.”

“If I’m in a sleeping curse I’m not living either.”

Regina found herself leaning in—passion infusing her voice, “But you have a **chance**.”

“I have a chance with the nuns.”

“Right,” she rolled her eyes, “choose the fairies and Mary Margaret over me.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“ **I** can save you. Unlike them I actually **want** to see you survive.” It was a stupid thing to say. Something fueled by emotion and exhaustion and a hungry need she hadn’t even been aware of.

Rumpel—Gold—didn’t crow with delight at the admission. Not like he once would have. There wasn’t even a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Just something chilling and curious.

Regina stood up—flexed the muscles of her back and tried to pop her neck. It cracked loudly in the room.

“Why?” His voice was a low rumble. Soft. Human. The man she’d made rather than the imp he’d been.

“Henry. He needs a malicious conniving imp for a grandfather to balance out all of Charming’s niceness.”

Gold said nothing. When she chanced looking back at him she met an even stare.

“Do I really need to justify myself,” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Not to me.”

Never to him. He’d been the only one to never beg for an explanation. He’d never sought to understand what she was. To perceive the evil churning inside of her. He’d simply understood. Seen her and known her. Better than anyone.

Emma. Daniel. Even Henry had only seen a part of her. Rumpel—no— **Gold** saw all of her.

She sat down again and was careful not to look at him. She focused on his feet. The normally polished shoes he wore were scuffed with dirt. They hadn’t suffered a whole new city well.

“I never have needed to explain myself to you, have I?”

He said nothing.

“My father. My husband. I had to explain myself to them. But never you. You **understand** me.”

“Not this time I’m afraid.”

She laughed. “No. Not this time.” She leaned over, her hand digging into the edge of the mattress. “All those years watching me. Guiding me. But we have a little break and you no longer understand me.”

“You should want me dead.”

“I do.”

“Than why am I alive?”

“Because good people don’t kill.”

“You’re good now?” He was as incredulous as she’d once been. When she and Mulan had stood before a fire in Agrabah and the warrior had anointed her a hero.

“I’m trying to be.”

“You? Me?” He motioned between them, “We can never be good. We’re not **built** that way dearie.”

She laughed again. Struck by those words. Built. Like she’d been manufactured in a factory. Put together piece by piece for the express purpose of destruction and despair. A cog in the Fates’ machine.

“I **could** kill you,” she agreed.

That old familiar smile of Rumpel’s returned. “There’s the Regina I know.”

“Take your knife and slit your throat.” She looked around the room. As if the famed dagger itself would be resting on a shelf. “It’d be fitting. Your protege taking your place. Only with less gold.” She shrugged. “Isn’t really my color.”

“No,” his gaze was even, “no, you prefer black.”

She rolled her eyes, “Like my heart. I know.”

“I was thinking your hand.” Faster than a man in his condition should have been he reached out—snatching her bandaged hand in a grip as tight as a god’s. Something like cool oil seemed to ooze through her hand. “You already know my dagger’s magic.”

She tried to pull her hand away, but Gold’s grip was firm. His eyes gold. “I survived.”

“But it lingers.”

The oil sensation continued up her arm.

“The magic has a taste of you now Regina, but I think, I think if it was just you and the dagger? It’d devour you.”

She swallowed, “I’m stronger than you think.”

“Yes. You took a god’s hat and broke a world or two. But inside? Where it counts?” He glanced up at her chest, gold eyes seeing through sinew and bone to stare at the dark heart within. “You’re **weak** Regina. The dagger would whisper in your ear and you’d bow,” he cocked his head, his voice pitching high, “like a peasant.”

There’d always been some kind of line drawn between Gold and Rumpelstiltskin. One was a man, fashioned by a curse. He was a liar and a murderer. And reluctant. To love or care or even live. The other was a demon forged in fury and bitterness. A manic imp that peeled back the layers of the world and reveled in its carnage.

As often as she’d called him Rumpel since the curse broke he’d still **been** Gold. But now, his hand on hers and his eyes shining he was the imp completely. His skin seemed ready to turn to glinting scales at any moment. He was panting—infused with sudden energy—calling to mind the squirming monster he’d been in another world. 

“I die, you die, dearie.”

She squeezed his hand hoping the awful feeling lurching up her arm would disappear. Her fingers were numb. “You can’t know that.”

“Maybe, but **you** can feel it.”

Her fingers seemed to lose all their color for a brief instance. Turned a gray like carved stone.

The imp was right.

 

####

Emma found him at the edge of the forest on a rarely used trail covered in old leaves. He looked up at the sound of her heels crushing them. Looked up like he was surprised. “How’d you find me?”

“Little bird told me,” she said dismissively. The referenced bird flitted off in a huffy tweet. “What the hell are you doing?”

Neal looked around. They’d come just far enough into the forest that the surrounding trees muted the white noise of the town. There was only the breeze and the rustling of leaves. “I’m enjoying a walk. Emma—what,” he jammed his hands into his pockets, pulling his whole jacket down too tight over his shoulders, “—what are you doing?”

“Looking for you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Your dad is dying and you ran away. Not my definition of fine…or mature.”

He sighed, “I—he was gonna kill that woman.”

“Regina—“

“He was gonna kill her. Guilt free. Clear conscience.” 

“Well, it’s Regina. He probably would have felt a little guilty.”

“You’re joking?”

She laughed, “It’s Regina and Gold Neal. They’ve been trying to politely kill each other as long as I’ve known them. Quietly murdering each other is like, a hobby for them. Like me and petty theft, or you and running.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Too soon? Sorry, it was just I was having flashbacks in Gold’s shop. Things get tough and you disappear.”

“This is different.”

“Really? Because the way I see it you’re leaving your dad just like you left me, and just when we needed you.”

“I—“ He ran his hand angrily through his hair—locks sticking up comically in every direction. Then he sucked on his lower lip, taking a moment before he tried, again, to explain why he wasn’t an asshole. “I had to leave you. You had a destiny and I couldn’t stand in the way. But him— **he** made his choices. He didn’t even have a destiny until he went and looked for that stupid dagger.”

She stared. “Destiny?” She wanted to pull her hair out. Or shove her foot so far up his ass hold she was using his head as a shoe. She surged forward, so close she could see the individual gray hairs at his temple. 

“Destiny! You—Why is this entire town obsessed with destiny? You didn’t have to leave me Neal. You didn’t have to leave me rotting in a jail for a year with a ruined record and a baby on the way. You don’t get to blame that on some bullshit idea of fate. That was **you**. And you walking away now? That isn’t because of your dad. That’s you too.”

“He kill—“

“Killed a lot of people. I know. He also created the curse that stuck us all here. And he probably ate babies and puppies at some point. But he’s dying. He’s done. This is it for him Neal, and if you don’t go reconcile you’ll hate yourself for the rest of your life.”

The defense of a man she actively despised earned her a careful appraisal. Neal studying her like she was some fascinating graffiti on a gas station wall. “How can you, after all this time, still be such an optimist?”

“Not a lot of point to things otherwise is there?”

Someone chuckled. “Oh I can think of plenty of things to live for besides **hope**.” 

Emma and Neal fell apart like they were on fire, both turning at the sound of the new voice. Neal slipped into a fighting stance and Emma reached for her gun while building up a huge force of magic.

It was the killer she and Regina had been hunting for days. The guy she’d had half the creatures in the forest looking for. Standing there in front of her in a dark green hoodie that shadowed his whole face—leaving only bright teeth to shine in a perverse smile.

He carried two wands, one in each hand. And twirled them between his fingers like toys.

“Kind of brazen,” Emma said. “Just popping up like this. You know I’m gonna arrest you right?”

He bowed deeply, “You’re welcome to try.”

“Who the hell is he,” Neal asked. 

The smile beneath the hood grew wider. “Friend? Family?”

Emma scowled, “Family tree’s big enough thanks.”

He laughed again.. Something so unhinged it sent a chill through Emma. “If only you knew.”

“Everybody in this town this weird?”

The man redirected his focus to Neal. “Afraid I’m not from around here Baelfire.” He said the name with relish. Emma half expected him to hop up and down with amusement.

Neal tensed, tilting his head back to study the man. “How do you know my name?”

“I know all about you,” he turned slightly, “you too Emma.”

There was something familiar. The voice. Or the mannerisms. Some part of him she should know but couldn’t know. She stepped between Neal and the man, her gun never wavering. “Bet you don’t know what I ate last night.”

That fucking grin. “Bet I know what you wanted to eat.”

“Mature.”

He shrugged, “Never grew up. Didn’t have the chance.”

“You can do it in jail.”

“Didn’t work too well for you did it?” The stupid, fucking grin. And all the things he knew. The buttons he could press as easy as breathing.

He looked dawn to marvel at his own ability to twirl a wand. “The thing I’m wondering, watching you two dance around each other like you **don’t** want to sleep together, is why you’re out here. Alone.”

“Privacy,” Emma cracked.

“Fresh air,” Neal quipped.

She glanced at him and he shrugged with that quick grin that used to do things to her insides.

“Adorable,” the hooded man crooned. “Really. It’s no wonder you two got together. Or,” he motioned between them with his wand, “are getting together?”

“Keep it in your pants pal. We weren’t out here for that.”

“Not even a little?” 

“He’s engaged and his dad is **dying**. I don’t think this is the time.”

That earned the tiniest of falters in his shit eating grin. “Rumpelstiltskin is…dying?” 

Sure—that’s the part he gets hung up on. If she’d known it was that easy to get him to stop smiling she would have said something earlier.

“Yeah,” Neal said, and his voice nearly cracked. “You’re probably one of the hundreds of thousands he screwed over right? Red letter day.”

“Not…quite.”

The hooded man stepped back and Emma felt that distinct pull she’d finally started associating with magic and teleportation. 

“Wait,” she called after him, “you don’t get to just fly out like that. I’m arresting you.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“You at least gonna tell me who you are?”

That grin returned—as manic and dark as ever. “Family.”

Then there was a puff of smoke and Emma and Neal were once more alone.

“What the fuck is up with this town?”

“Everyone is related and has really inconvenient magical powers is what’s up.” She holstered her gun. “The way he left, I’m pretty sure that guy wants to chat with your dad before he dies.”

“Too much to hope he wants to help?”

“Maybe.”

 

####

Regina never contemplated death. Thinking about her own death could only lead to thinking of the deaths of others. Lives lost and lives taken. Thinking of death put her at the edge of a very dark pit she had no desire to leap into.

But now she was facing mortality. At some point in the near future Rumpelstiltskin would die and Regina would either be consumed by his dagger or become one with it, taking a mantle she was repulsed by. 

She’d preferred it when helping him survive had been an option instead of a necessity. 

Her hand seemed more numb than usual. She squeezed it into a fist and only relaxed when she felt the barely healed wound pull painfully.

“You know,” Gold had re-situated himself and was staring up at the ceiling, “I do have one idea.”

“It can’t involve killing.”

He tsked. “No one has to die, and it saves your life too. Finally clears out all the dark magic you’ve been infected with.”

Regina leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest and appraising him, “And what’s your plan?”

“You give me your magic.”

She laughed, “I’m sorry. Either I just misheard you or the poison’s gone to your brain.”

“I’m serious. You funnel your magic into me. I live. You’re healed—“

“And I have no magic. I can’t be magic-free. Magic’s kind of my thing.”

“Magic nearly lost you your son.”

She pushed up off her seat, stalking away from Gold and trying not to pace in the tiny back room. “It also got him back. I’m not giving it up. **Especially** for you.”

“You’re out of options dearie. You want to live, **I** have to live and I can only live if you give up your magic.”

She shook her head. “No, I’ll curse you, find a cure and—“

“You’ll do nothing of the kind!”

“Why? Afraid there’s no one to wake you up?”

He looked away.

“Belle may have terrible taste in men but she does ado—“

Her phone rang. A startlingly trill noise. Modern and earthly and interrupting an all too surreal conversation. Glaring at Gold she pulled the phone from her pocket and answered.

“What?”

“Regina?” Snow was breathless. And calling her. “Thank God. Is he still alive?”

She glowered at Gold. “Unfortunately.”

“I spoke with Blue—“

“And—“

“And she says it was out of her hands. The Fates have decided.”

“How theatrical of her.”

“I’m serious Regina.” There was a sound like a car door shutting. “I’ve got one other idea, but he has to stay alive for it to work. How is he?”

“Trying to get me to do something stupid to save himself—so relatively healthy.”

“I’m serious Regina.” Snow started a car, the old engine roaring through the phone.

She glanced back at him. Tried to see him sans the nearly fifty years of baggage. When he wasn’t the imp, or the man she’d made, he was just an old frail thing. Sweat soaking his clothes and the cot, his hair lank around a pale and haggard face. 

Bones and festering meat. That was all he was.

“Not well,” she said succinctly. Suddenly struggling to find her voice.

Snow was quiet, just the sound of the road and the drone of the engine. “And you?”

She sniffed and walked further—angry that she should feel anything but joy over his impending doom. “I’m fine dear. Alive and well and watching my arch-nemesis slowly die. Would have preferred doing it myself but beggars can’t be choosers.”

“We’ll save him.” A promise. An attempt at comfort. It was so odd to here Snow so passionate about someone unrelated to herself. 

“You’ll try.”

 

####

Regina had made Emma swear one thing. All their time together and there was just the one thing she’d made her promise her.

Not to teleport.

Generally speaking that wasn’t a problem. Emma had it on good authority that when she teleported it was in a big puffy pink cloud, and while she wasn’t vain by a long shot she still had a little pride.

And she hated pink.

And she’d promised. There’d been a lot of fear in Regina’s eyes when she’d begged her. A lot of fear and talk of unmaking worlds.

So teleporting, nine times out of ten, wasn’t an option.

“Fuck!”

“Any luck?”

The problem was Emma had been trying to get ahold of Regina since the fairy killer had teleported away and the stupid phone was giving her a busy signal like Regina was the one damn person in the whole damn United States too cheap to get call waiting.

What kind of monster didn’t get call waiting? It wasn’t…was it even an optional service anymore?

Maybe it was something to do with the town. The whole “mild time warp because of a curse” thing screwing with the phone service.

“Jesus!”

“So no luck?”

None whatsoever.

She and Neal were refraining from an all out sprint and just jogging back to Gold’s shop. It seemed a lot further than she remembered.

And Regina still wasn’t answering.

“Maybe my dad has a phone?”

She looked over her phone to scowl at him. “The guy has 8-track in his car.”

Neal winced.

Emma resisted the urge to throw her phone as far as physics would allow. 

“Come on Emma, we’re almost back. They’ll be fine.”

“This guy kills fairies Neal.”

“And my dad and Regina aren’t fairies. They’re, you know, big…evil…sorcerers.”

Emma groaned a long and satisfying “fuck.” She was trying to foot race a magical serial killer back to a shop owned by a mythological imp to protect him and a fabled evil queen and she was doing it all with her ex-boyfriend who—

“It’s a little funny,” he said, a smirk still pulling at the sides of his mouth.

And it was. When Emma stepped back from the situation it was **really** funny. And ridiculous. And silly. And.

Jesus. Her parents were **Snow White and Prince Charming** and she was starting to nurse a major confusing something for an **Evil Queen**.

Who was about to be blind sided by a very capable murderer.

That took the humor right out of it.

And it left her feeling helpless. As helpless as that promise she’d made to Regina.

Who couldn’t yell and berate her if she was being surprise murdered.

“Neal I—“

She looked to him beseechingly. 

“You gotta go?”

She shrugged. “They’re not answering and I can’t… There’s not enough time.”

He nodded, his lips disappearing into a grimace. He nodded. And stepped back. 

Emma turned away and focused on Gold’s shop. Pictured it in her head. She could smell the dust on old knick knacks and mothballs tossed in the corners to ward off rats. She could see Regina, hands wrapped around herself as she watched her old mentor die. Regina always smelled like harsh soap and freshly cut apples. It was a hard smell. And familiar.

She could see all the little details of the woman—a beacon at the center of the shop. And all she had to do was pry the world apart. Harrowing to consider, but easy to do. Pull until the space between them was gone. Until it wasn’t the edge of the forest with Neal by her side, but a dark little shop and a woman she—

The whole world popped and crashed and existed in an instant. Ionized air lingered in her nose and something sharp-like crackled across her skin. And she was suddenly standing in the shop. Standing across from Regina, who still had her phone pressed to her ear.

And who looked at Emma like she was Death herself.

“Hey,” she said sheepishly. 

“Dangerous way of traveling,” Gold noted.

Regina was still staring. She’d gone ashen.

“Figured it was safer than letting you two get jumped by our fairy murderer. Who’s on his way.”

“How…” Regina finally spoke. Croaked. Her voice lost. “How did you do that?”

“I just kind of…thought?” Regina’s eyes drifted down to where the locket lay beneath Emma’s shirt and Emma touched it self-consciously. “Can we stop talking about how I teleport into buildings and start talking about the murderer? Who is coming? To make sure Hook’s poison **works**.”

 

####

A crack of thunder. 

A flash of light.

She’d thought she’d left behind that kind of calamitous magic in a world that would never be. But it had found her. Leaked through the cracks into this world. Her world.

It was supposed to be a different Emma. One not beaten down by ten years of war and her mother’s rule. One not pulled apart by her very own magic. One not in love with Regina. **This** Emma was supposed to be different. 

She wasn’t supposed to rip through space and time just to warn Regina. She wasn’t supposed to be staring at Regina. **Watching** her. 

Only her.

Like in that moment she was all that mattered.

“Regina?” Her head was tilted. Her hair, wavy from the long day and the shock of humidity on Hook’s boat, made her looks so very different from that other Emma. Who’d kept her hair pulled back and out of her face.

“We should move me somewhere safer,” Gold suggested.

His voice. Oily as his magic, drew her out of her reverie. “We’re not moving you,” she snapped.

Emma raised an eyebrow. 

Regina sighed. “Snow has a plan. She’s on her way. We wait.”

“This ‘murderer’ means to kill me—“

“You’re already dead dear. Snow’s Hail Mary is your last chance.”

“It isn’t.” His previous suggestion was there like a storm just between them.

She straightened up. “It is.” 

And just like that it was gone.

A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“Okay,” Emma said, carefully stepping between them and having no idea what was going on. “So how do we keep him alive until Mary Margaret gets here?”

“That’s easy,” a sickeningly familiar voice crowed, “you don’t.”

Their fairy murderer had arrived.

 

####

Regina didn’t wait. There was no attempt at stalling or forcing a trite discussion. She waved her hand and the murderer went flying out the back door of the shop with Regina in hot pursuit.

Gold and Emma both stared at the gaping hole where the backdoor had been.

“Guess she doesn’t like interruptions,” Emma lamely joked.

“Evidently not. Now stop staring.” There was a loud boom outside. Big enough to rattle every bit of bauble and kitsch on the walls. “You’ve got to keep me alive.”

“How exactly?”

He pointed to an empty jar. “Regina taught you how to channel your magic right? Use the chalk in there and draw a barrier around us.”

“That jar is empty.”

“Only to a fool. Grab the chalk Emma. Your girlfriend won’t hold that man off forever.”

His statement was punctuated by another boom. This one shook dust out of the slats in the ceiling.

 

####

He laughed. Like it was a **game**. 

“I’ll give you credit,” he panted, “You’re not awful.” He dusted mortar from a crushed building off his sleeves and hood. “And you’re persistent.”

“If anyone is killing that imp it’s me.”

He laughed again. The sound like steps upon her grave. “As I hear it anything we do is just finishing the job your mate Hook started.”

Regina uprooted a sapling and launched it at that obnoxious grin.  

The murderer split it in two with his wand, set both halves on fire, and shot them back at her.

 

####

A gout of fire flared against the barrier. Emma leapt back, surprised, not by the fire flying at her face, but by the complete lack of heat. She reached out to touch what she couldn’t even see. “How—“

“Magic,” Gold said from his cot. “Stop gaping.”

He sounded like Regina. Who was fighting a two-wanding murderer. Emma didn’t know a whole lot about magic or wands or fairy magic or whatever, but she figured that even Regina would have trouble. Outside Regina turned the fire into smoke and disappeared into it—leaving their bad guy confused in the center of the road. 

Emma pressed her bare fingers against the barrier. Despite being invisible she could still feel it, taunt like a balloon. “If this barrier’s up I can go help Regina.”

“With what? Your finesse?”

She shot Gold a dirty look over her shoulder. “I’ve got magic.”

“The whole town knows that.”

The locket was warm. “He’s got wands. Don’t you think she could maybe use some of that magic?”

“You ever try to water a garden with an old leaky hose?”

 

####

She created the smoke just so she could take a moment to catch her breath. Her magical reserves were running low since the spell to bring Maleficent back and Emma’s magic, wild and violent, was begging to be used, brushing up against her and whispering in her ear. 

It was all too much for Regina. Temptation and exhaustion trying to pull her apart.

So she slipped into the smoke and took a breath.

That was a trick Mulan had taught her. Find a moment in the chaos. 

And just breathe.

His cocky voice broke through the thick smoke. “All worn out are we?” With a gust of cold wind he cleared the smoke and tilted his head, irreverently judging her. “No stamina Regina.”

She cracked her neck, the pop loud in her own ears. “Oh I’ve got plenty.”

 

####

“I’m…I’m confused. Am I the garden or the leaky hose?”

Gold huffed, inhaling through his nose and glaring at her as he exhaled through his mouth. “You’re the water.”

Emma blinked.

“The water is magic.”

“So…you’re calling Regina a leaky old hose?”

“Yes.”

Mature. She glanced out through the magically sealed hole in the wall. Regina and the murderer were back to fighting—calling vines out from the forest to do battle with dragons made of—she squinted—what looked like smoke.

“She doesn’t look very leaky.”

“You overestimate her stamina. And underestimate your magic.”

Her mind flashed to that moment on Hook’s boat, when Regina had emerged from the shadows with dark light in her eyes. Savagely unmaking a man and healing Emma with a thought and a terrifying smile.

And all with Emma’s own magic.

“What she does when she uses my magic…it’s not normal?”

Gold didn’t speak. She understood the guy well enough to know that he didn’t admit mistakes or weaknesses. So he **couldn’t** speak. Not really. Answering her question would mean admitting that what Regina did—what she was capable of—was more than Gold might ever be.

She stared at him—as if looking hard enough could pull an answer out of him. “Is it?”

He swallowed. His eyes drifted to the hole in the wall to watch the battle outside. Regina had turned the vines called from the forest into giant arms of fire and was lashing out at the monsters made of smoke. “When I met her she couldn’t even conjure a flame.”

 

####

He wasn’t fast as much as he was **slippery**. Darting out of the way of her attacks like he could anticipate them. All the magic Regina could potentially call upon and she couldn’t even hit one idiot in a hoodie. 

Emma’s magic—begging to be used—was wriggling further inside of her. Sidling up close to Regina’s own source of magic and imploring. Her resolve was shivering inside of her—ready to break.

And then he stopped.

“He’s nearly dead you know. We could stop fighting and watch him die.”

She laughed. A sharp bark pulled from a smoke thickened throat. “What? Together?”

“Why not? We both want him dead.”

“I know why **I** want him dead. Why do you?”

“He destroyed my family.”

“Get in line.”

“I’m offering you peace Regina.”

She shook her head, “They’d never forgive me if I let him die.”

“Her?”

“My son.”

He snickered. “I knew your son, **your majesty**. He was much more pragmatic than you think.”

He knew him.

Knew. 

She staggered.

Another life and another son. That Henry **had** been pragmatic. He’d understood sacrifice. And he’d hated Gold. Rumpel. And— “Who are you?” Dread suffused her.

“You haven’t figured it out.”

She wouldn’t say that name. Saying that name might make it true. She could only watching with growing horror as he slowly reached up to turn back his hood.

And Snow White ran him over with a car.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: While there is no rape or sexual violence or allusion to either in this chapter there is a passage that could be triggering. Please be careful.

Snow was talking to her. Asking if she was all right. Snow’s noses was swollen and bleeding from the crash. Her Jeep’s engine spewing steam. It had slammed into Gold’s shop after Snow had hit him with a car. ****

Him.

Regina didn’t have the time or energy to talk to Snow. Or to see who’d been in the car with her and was now stalking towards Gold’s shop. That would mean looking away from the crumpled form on the street.

Him.

Her…

She staggered towards the body.

No. 

The **form**. 

A body meant he was somehow less than. That some part of him was gone and only flesh was left behind.

She wouldn’t let that happen. She’d broken worlds and resurrected a queen of darkness. She could bring a man back to life now. She could…she could do anything.

 

####

Could anyone in Storybrooke drive?

Emma coughed. Dust, smoke and steam from a 30 year old Jeep Cherokee smashing into a ratty pawn shop had attacked her lungs. It was hard to get a breath—and she was pretty positive she’d never breathe actual **clean** air again.

The last thing she’d seen was Regina going pale and then Mary Margaret careening onto the scene driving like she was Burt Reynolds. She’d smacked into their murderer and promptly lost control of her monstrous pre-power steering beast.

Now all Emma could see was the steam and smoke and dust. She could hear the tick tick tick of a rapidly cooling engine and a faint cough from where she’d last seen Gold.

Sunlight was filtering through the new drive through. A figure stood sillouhetted in the smoke. Sharp suit and assured posture.

Just like her daughter.

“Cora?”

The smoke settled enough for Emma to see Cora ignoring her. She had her hand pressed up to the barrier Emma had created. “Powerful, but sloppy.”

“I get that a lot.”

Cora continued to ignore her.

“How’d you get out?”

A fireball formed in Cora’s hand. 

“Cora…”

It exploded against the barrier.

 

####

From the edge of her vision she spied a gout of flame exploding out from Gold’s shop. She couldn’t feel the heat of it. Part of her mind still processing details of the world around her knew that was because it was magical in nature—suggesting someone was trying to get into the shop.

And Snow was standing in front of her. Dark shadows already forming under her eyes. Red leaking from her nose. Talking.

Blocking Regina’s view of the crumpled form on the street.

A hand, warm and dry, wrapped around her own. There was no magic in Snow’s hand. No unusual heat or deadening chill. It was just flesh pressed against flesh.

Oddly comforting. 

“Regina,” the hand tugged on her. “Come on.”

“I—“ she gulped. Swallowed. Refused to take her eyes off the—

“You’re safe. Okay? And I need—we need your help to save Gold.”

She pulled away from the hand—not quite losing contact. “But he…” From a distance the form on the street was so small.

“Please Regina.”

The hand tugged. Was insistent. **Snow** was insistent. Like she had a right. Like she was **good**. And **honest**. And **noble**. Like she hadn’t just kill—

The figure on the road stirred and that was enough. Regina pushed Snow away and ran.

 

####

Yeah, Regina had taught her how to hit like a Mack truck with magic. And yeah, she could rip through space and time if she **really** needed to. But Emma’s default reaction to a fireball to her face was still her gun.

Guns weren’t about feelings and mumbo bull crap. Guns were aiming down the sight and pulling the trigger.

She had hers out and trained on Cora.

“Not another step,” she barked.

Cora tilted her head like a Terminator. Passionless and terrifying.

A sharp smile curved her thin lips upward. She raised her hand—her wrist curling just like Regina’s did when she performed magic. Emma felt her gun being pulled from her grip. She gritted her teeth and held on tight.

She could just squeeze the trigger. Regina…Regina would expect it and block it. But Cora was a different beast entirely. She hadn’t spent thirty years living here. She probably didn’t even know what a gun **was**.

She wouldn’t be prepared to stop a bullet.

She exerted pressure, finger pulling back on the trigger. Cora’s smile shifted into a sneer and then—

“Wait!”

Mary Margaret burst through the rubble. “Stop!”

She jumped between Emma and Cora and turned to Cora first. “Don’t hurt her,” and back to Emma, “I brought her.”

“You…you brought her?”

That pleased little look on Cora’s face confirmed it.

“Why,” Emma hissed.

“Because we need someone with magic—“

“We have Regina—“

“Who can’t help.” She looked back to Cora, her features stilling into hard steel, “Cora can.”

“If you want Rumpel to survive I’m the only choice you have…dear.”

She glanced back at Mary Margaret. Who seemed…she seemed okay. As cautious and angry and vicious and un-Mary Margaret as she was in that moment she still seemed like the woman who called herself Emma’s mom.

Emma’s gut told her Mary Margaret wasn’t being controlled or brain washed—that she really did think Cora was Gold’s best chance.

And Regina wasn’t there to say otherwise.

“It’s all right,” Gold said with a weak cough. “It’s not like she can do any more damage.”

Cora looked at him and it was the first time Emma could recall seeing something besides contempt or condescension on her face. 

She looked—if it was possible—sad.

 

####

It was Henry.

As soon as she had her hand on his shoulder she knew it. He was bony and too skinny—with hard wiry muscle that urged her to tell him to eat. But she remembered those arms wrapped around her—remembered every ounce of him the way only a mother could. He was a part of her. 

And he was alive. She could feel that too. Life thrumming through his veins.

She turned him over and studied his face—noting every change and imperfection. She could see a scar creeping up from his collar and his beard was longer than she remembered. And he was paler—with nearly black circles under violently angry eyes.

“Henry?” Her voice cracked. She could **hear** it crack. Could watch their moment on the street as if half a dozen yards away She was there in the moment and completely beyond it at once.

It was too mu—he was alive.

Something in him, almost imperceptible, seemed to soften. “Mom?”

 

####

Emma couldn’t see much of what was happening on the street—even with holes in the wall. There was a terrifying silence out there that she didn’t—couldn’t—focus on. Not with what was happening in the room.

Gold was laid out flat on his back and Cora sat on the edge of the bed beside him. She had her hand out hovering over him—her eyes closed. She was doing that thing her daughter did. Seeing the magic.

It made Emma itch and she scratched at the skin beneath her locket out of habit.

“How bad is it,” Mary Margaret asked. She was standing beside Emma and fighting the urge to wring her hands together.

“He’s dying,” Cora said softly.

Gold coughed, “She didn’t need you to tell her that.”

A hand that usually pulled unwilling hearts from chests lay gently against Gold’s sallow cheek. “Oh Rumpel, I’m so sorry.”

It was the sincerity that made Emma shiver. She was very comfortable believing Cora was completely incapable of sincerity. Or grief. Or really anything bordering on human emotion.

“Jealous,” Gold asked.

Cora tilted her head.

“That drunken pirate’s accomplished what you never could.”

“I never wanted you dead, Rumpel.”

“Didn’t you?” He surprised Emma with the ferocity of the question.

Cora shook her head, “You confuse me with Regina. I—“ She touched him again. It was an intimate gesture between two people who rarely knew the closeness. “I took my heart from my own chest just to stop loving you.”

That was a helluva way to break up with someone. Emma looked away—uncomfortable with the scene she was witnessing.

“How could I kill someone I love so dearly.”

“Lack of a heart helps,” Mary Margaret opined. 

They both ignored her. Cora’s hand had drifted down to hover just above the wound. “There is…I do know one way to save you.”

Gold was perfectly still. His eyes dark and focused on Cora. “Regina refused.”

“I’m not my daughter.”

The hand hovering over Gold’s wound began to glow. He winced and stared down at the wound—watching as it slowly, excruciatingly slowly, began to knit itself back together.

“No, you’re not,” he grunted.

The light intensified. Shifted from the bright purple Emma associated with Regina and her mother into an iridescent gold. Scales—dirty and shining—sprouted up across Gold’s skin. 

“I’m not as strong,” Cora declared.

Emma couldn't really understand much of magic but she knew something was wrong.

“Stop.” Gold's hand grabbed Cora's wrist, but the light show continued.

“It’s too late," she was gritting her teeth in concentration.

Gold tried to pull back.

Emma and Mary Margaret tried to move forward.

“Not another step,” Cora warned.

Mary Margaret was stricken. “I trusted you.”

Emma wasn’t as stunned. Instead she was carefully pulling her gun free from its holster again. “Pretty light show for a murder,” she mused aloud.

“It isn’t murder.” Cora was calm.

Gold cried out, “It’s worse.”

“What could be worse than death?”

“She’s taking his magic,” Neal announced. He’d arrived through that hole in the wall and he watched the glow of gold light awe.

“Bae—“

Gold uttering that name was enough to earn Neal's whole focus. He stared at his dad with that petulant anger he was really good at.

“That’s what she’s doing right? Taking your magic?”

 

####

Her knees falling onto the pavement hurt. Glass and pebbles biting into skin. Pinpricks ripping skin pulled taunt over tendon and bone.

He was alive. Somehow alive and staring up at her—long locks of hair in his eyes.

She reached out. Caught herself. Curled her fingers away from his cheek. “I lost you.”

“I know.” His words were even.

She let her hand drop to his chest where her fingers could feel the heated beating of his heart. A heart she’d felt in her own hand. Cold and still. More like a carcass from a butcher than any piece of the life she’d known.

It was strong.

“How?”

So strong.

Henry smiled.

Too strong.

There was darkness in that smile. A visage she knew and love twisted into something malevolent and wrong.

And not Henry.

Suddenly his fingers were digging through her chest and wrapping around her heart and squeezing so tightly she could barely breathe. 

“The dead are dead and gone, your majesty.”

Her eyes dropped from his cold and cruel ones to stare at his arm. His hand. His wrist. They were buried inside of her. Foreign and awful.

He gave a vicious tug, not removing her heart but pulling her close enough to see the faint grooves in his teeth.

“Your precious son is nothing but ash.”

 

####

“Please,” Gold begged. “Stop her.”

The scales on his skin were slowly fading as long tendrils of gold light moved their way across his body and towards the wound.

Cora was using his magic—his and hers both—to heal him. Sapping away his powers to let him live.

“She’s saving your life,” Mary Margaret declared. 

“You have no idea what she’s doing,” he sneered. “No—“ 

“She’s breaking the curse,” Neal insisted. 

“It isn’t a curse,” he said.

“Neal thinks so,” Emma said. Cora was still focused on her task, but Mary Margaret and Gold both looked to Emma. “ **He** considers it a curse.”

Gold glared at her—his eyes shifting from gold to black and back again. Neal was standing in the room but this moment—it was just the two of them.

She’d heard all about Neal’s dad. Always oblique references that made her skin crawl and almost made her glad to have no parents of her own. Neal’s father abandoned him.

Her parents, she used to think, they’d at least known from the get go that raising her wasn’t their thing. But Neal’s dad, he’d held on to him. Tried to raise him. Then he’d turned into a monster. Made any dreams the two of them had had into a nightmare.

“Here’s the thing, the way I see it you **need** it to be a curse, because these people,” she knelt down so they were eye level, “they forgive a lot when it’s curses. Magic making them do it kind of makes the blame disappear." 

Behind her Mary Margaret gasped or sighed. It was short and quick and barely audible. 

"So if it isn’t a curse—if Cora really is stealing a part of you to save you—“ Emma leaned in close—close enough to smell the sickly sweet odor wafting off his wound— “Than what kind of monster does that make you?” 

Gold's eyes had lost their magic. Still dark and watchful, but watery too.

No one spoke. The hum of Cora’s magic filled up the room. Outside Emma could hear a breeze through trees and distant cars and the long off drone of waves on the beach.

It was so quiet.

“They’ve stopped,” Neal said softly.

Mary Margaret looked towards the hole in the wall, “Did she win?”

“I don’t—“ Emma couldn’t finish her sentence. Awful coldness was rapidly spreading over her—through her. Starting in her chest. Seizing up her heart. 

“I don’t—“ she tried again.

But—

darkness clouded her vision.

 

####

“You’re—“ she had trouble speaking. 

It wasn’t pain. Regina knew what a hand actually felt like ripping through sinew and bone to reach into a chest. That had been excruciating—tearing into parts of her she wasn’t sure she could ever revisit.

This was a sensation so much more rooted in magic. It was cold and terrible and seemed to leach all the energy out of her. She found a point of brightness far away inside of her and reached for it—feeding on the energy to stay conscious.

He sneered, “Can’t figure it out?”

She couldn't. He had Henry's face and for a brief moment he'd had his mannerisms. The magic snaking through her was familiar but she couldn't bring to mind a single face to associate with it.

All she could ask was, "How?"

How had he survived? How did he know of that world? How was he here?

He pulled her closer, she was supported only by his wrist, like a puppet--his hand still buried deep inside of her. "I slipped through the cracks you created with your little spells." His fingers walked across her cheek. "Just sauntered in," he said with too much relish.

"From," she swallowed, blinked and tried to stay awake, "From there?"

He grinned. "No."

"You're…you're from another world."

"Now that Evil Queen is catching on."

"Then why him? Why take that face?"

His hand dropped down to her shoulder and he shoved her back, his other hand and her heart pulling free from her body. She tried to stagger towards him but he stopped her with a thought--her entire body seizing up on his whim.

He held her heart up. It glowed brighter than it should have. There was a dark spot at its center, like a malignant cancer, but it was haloed in warm red light that reflected vibrantly in the fake Henry's eyes. Eyes that seemed to twinkle with malevolent mirth. "Because I was fond of him."

 

####

She surged up, sucking in deep breaths of air and clawing at her chest. As incongruous as it was her chest felt **empty**. As though something--her heart--had been pulled away.

It hadn't. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears and feel it pulsing through her thumbs. Nothing had been ripped away. But the empty ache was still there. Dull and distant.

Neal and Mary Margaret were both holding her, each one grasping an arm and trying to keep her steady. Mary Margaret had her other hand pressed down onto Emma's chest. "Are you okay?"

Neal had his other hand in her hair--supporting her head. "You fainted for a second."

"I'm fine."

They didn't share a look a look with each other but they both looked dubious.

She tried to stand and they helped her up. "Seriously. I'm fine." Her hand briefly touched her locket but she quickly snatched it away before anyone could realize what she'd been doing. "I just--I think I need to find Regina."

Neal was confused, "The Evil Queen?"

"It's too quiet out there. Whatever's happened she might need help."

Mary Margaret nodded towards the bed. "What about that?"

Gold and Cora were both completely silent--eyes closed, his body in repose and her's still like a statue beside him. The light that had been leaching the gold from his system had slowed down. Motes of dust that fell between them seemed to stop in place. It was as if time itself was stopping there on the bed.

Neal shoved his hands into his pocket and appraised the bed, "She's saving him right?"

Emma crept just close enough to know she didn't want to get any closer. It was hard to breathe when she stood too close. The air thinner--as if up on a mountain. She felt tired just standing close. "She's using their magic to save his life."

He nodded, "Back in New York Papa tried to say he'd do anything to have me back," he shrugged, "Guess now he's putting his money where his mouth is."

Mary Margaret came closer too--closer than Emma could get. She scanned the bed. "Without magic what happens to the Dark One?"

That close Emma could see the movement of the magic. It was slow. So slow. If she hadn't felt that constant pull she would have just thought it was a trick of the eye. But the light show--the dust--all of it was moving.

Neal shrugged again, "No magic. No Dark One. No dagger." He jerked his chin in Cora's direction, "She's doing what kings and even gods couldn't do."

Regina supposedly had the power of a god. 

She'd said saving Gold was impossible. 

Emma shivered.

 

####

It was actually easier to breathe now that her heart was out of her chest. It was still foreign feeling. She could feel his fingers on her heart even though he was a yard away. But it didn't have her on her knees like she'd been. She could stand and take deep breaths--sucking in dust and cool sea air.

He held the heart up to appraise it. "Henry used to always talk about you. We were these two lost boys, all alone. No parents. But he'd tell these endless and boring stories about how **brave** and **good** his dead mother was."

Regina refused to speak.

He stabbed his thumb into her heart--pressing at the darkness--and Regina staggered. 

"But this isn't the heart of a **good** woman is it?" He moved his thumb around. The dull ache spread through her chest. "A good woman doesn't do what you did."

"I--"

"You what?" He surged forward. Close enough that she could hear the faint thump of her heart beating in his hand.

"I did it to save my son. And--" Emma. "Whatever I destroyed wasn't really lost. It never existed."

"And what about all those travelers from other lands? Hmm?"

"That world--"

"Existed. Until you carved it out of the universe and forced this new one into its place. Did you really think you could snuff out a world and there be no consequences?"

"Is that what you are? My consequences?" 

He stared down at her heart. Her heartbeat thumping in her ears like a loud drum. She could never remember it being so loud. So lively. It thrummed in his fist.

"Not today. I'm merely a harbinger."

"Of what?"

He grinned and squeezed again. Hard enough to still her heart's movement. Her vision fogged as the blood in her body slowed. She lurched forward onto her hands and knees and tried to breathe. Tried to force her body to move. To work.

"Fate," he whispered in her ear, "karma. It's all working against you and this nasty little utopia you've all built. I may not be here for you specifically your majesty, but I'm the first in a long line of those who want nothing more--" he squeezed tighter--darkness filled her vision, "than to see this town turned to ash."

 

####

"Well, than let's hope your buddies like to monologue as much as you do."

Emma didn't wait for the creep to look at her. She shot a wave of magic at him just like Regina'd taught her way back in the Enchanted Forest. He flew backwards, bouncing across the asphalt like he was made of rubber--his body cartwheeling grotesquely before he smacked loudly against a building. The object that had been in his hand, meanwhile, popped like a cork up into the air. Emma stepped back, eyed it and then reached out and caught it smoothly.

She grinned down at a worn-out looking Regina. "Could have been all state softball if I'd bothered to show up for practice."

Regina sighed, "In the future could you perhaps **not** show off when it's my heart on the line?"

That was a helluva dramatic and romantic thing to sa--wait--Emma looked down at the object and then had to fight every impulse she had not to drop it. "This is--"

"Yes."

She held it away from her body. "Why is it not," she motioned at Regina's chest, "in you."

"He took it out. Now," Regina was unusually pale, "could you stop holding it so tight?"

"Right." She took a breath and chanced a look down at the object in her hand.

She'd expected…

She'd expected gore. Bits of flesh clinging to the heart. Maybe some blood.

But apparently magic sanitized hearts ripped straight out of chests. It looked more like a toy than and integral part of human being. It was translucent and gave off a soothing warm glow and was pleasantly smooth like the back of Emma's phone. 

But it also fluttered between her fingers.

It was **alive**.

Bound to the woman still panting at Emma's feet.

Carefully she cupped the heart in both her hands--suddenly nervous she might squeeze too tight and do something accidentally monstrous.

Regina watched her wordlessly. 

"You have a whole vault of these," Emma asked. The stories were running in circles in her head. Regina's own idle threats replaying over and over again.

"I do." Regina was haggard looking, but even keeled. 

It was a steady beat. A constant thumping that went up both her arms. "How does it feel? With it on the outside?"

"Gray." A muscle in Regina's cheek twitched. "It's hard," she hissed, "It's hard to feel."

"Oh."

Regina reached up and tugged on Emma's sleeve, pulling her down onto her knees across from her. She looked down at her own heart--kind of like a parent staring at their kid. "It's like…" she wrapped her hands around Emma's--closing Emma's hands over the fluttering muscle-- "Everything's muted." Which didn't make sense because she was looking at Emma with a helluva lot of affection. 

"Everything?"

A broken smile that did something to Emma's insides. "Almost everything."

Emma swallowed.

A brick falling from of a building behind them ended the mo--the weirdness. 

Emma swallowed again and tried not to think about how easy it had been just then to fall into--

"So I guess we should put this back in you?"

Regina stared out her, cocking her head to the side and creating another long quiet moment. "It never occurred to you did it?"

"Did what?"

"Keeping my heart."

She looked back down at it. The soft glow. The translucent veins. Distantly she wondered how it work. How Regina or Cora or Mary Margaret could have kept on going without it there. How did their blood flow or their pulse race? 

Cora had ripped hers out so it wouldn't beat in her ears when she kissed a lover or held her child. Super perfunctory.

Emma couldn't wrap her head around it. Seriously contemplating a heart or lack there of was creating a haze of white noise in Emma's head.

Regina's thumb grazed her hand and cleared the haze. 

She let Regina guide her hands up to Regina's chest.

The top buttons of Regina's silk blouse had come undone in the fight and Emma could see the dark shadow of her bra. She swallowed--pushing more odd and uncomfortable thoughts out of mind.

"How do I--how do we do this?"

She got a half smile. "Carefully."

Regina pressed Emma's hand, and her heart, firmly against her chest. And then just…just kept pressing.

One moment a warm heart fluttered in Emma's hand and cool skin pressed against her knuckles and the next the warmth had spread over her entire hand and Regina was gasping and sagging.

Emma wanted to panic. She **was** panicking. Only Regina still had her hand on her wrist and her touch was just soothing enough to keep Emma's very loud screams all on the inside of her brain.

Regina started to speak. Stopped. Took a breath. And then another. She leaned forward to rest her forehead on Emma's shoulder. "Relax," she said. 

Her thumb rubbed small circles on the inside of Emma's wrist.

"I didn't--did I hurt you?"

Regina shook her head.

Emma kind of knew Regina was right. She could still feel her heart. It was now drumming out a strong beat against Emma's hand.

And she could feel other things too. All the incongruous bits inside of Regina.

It wasn't right.

It didn't make sense.

Flinging people around with her mind and transporting herself through space and time made hundreds of times more sense than having her hand buried in a living body.

"Just relax," Regina intoned, her voice soft and maternal. "It's okay." 

It didn't feel okay and Emma was struck by the sudden urge to cry. She had to blink back stupid tears that didn't make sense and focus on anything but the sensation of being **in** Regina.

"I don't know how--I don't want to hurt you," she said, and she gave the tiniest of tugs to help Regina to understand.

That thumb kept up with the tiny concentric circles and Regina sat up and smiled again. "You're not."

Like she could.

Emma froze.

"Emma."

She couldn't see her hand. Everything past the wrist was gone. No way to fully understand where she ended and Regina began.

"Emma, it's okay."

She didn't want to breathe. Didn't want to--Regina pulled and Emma let her hand go limp. They both sighed in relief as she drew Emma's hand out of her chest.

She stared at the space where it had been for a just a second, but then had to look down. Had to inspect her hand. Everything she'd seen and she still expected there to be blood. For the places where her fingers touched to be sticky. That was what happened. In the real world that was what happened.

Regina's fingers on her cheek grounded her. And a second later Regina was covering her palm with her own. 

"It's okay," she said again. 

"I--"

"Holding a heart isn't easy."

She sniffed--sniffled. Had she **actually** cried? "Ya think?"

"And I have to admit, you're the only person I've ever met that wasn't tempted. Even a little."

"Hearts belong in bodies." She looked away. "Not in my hand or your vault or Cora's purse."

"I know."

"Do you? How can--how can you be okay with having that kind of power over someone?"

Regina didn't have an answer. She stared at Emma like Emma had hung the god-damned moon and her quick, steady breaths filled Emma's ears and her affection and sheer emotion flooded Emma through the stupid locket.

But she didn't have an answer.

Far behind them more bricks tumbled onto the street and Mary Margaret emerged from the rubble of Gold's shop. Regina turned to watch Mary Margaret over her shoulder. The fragile smile pulled into a frown.

"She did it," Mary Margaret announced. She was breathless from her quick jog down the street. "Cora saved him."

Her smile never reached her eyes. Instead it was a carefully calculated guise. Mary Margaret couldn't feel real joy anymore. Not without her heart. Every attempt she'd made at genuine emotion since was just theater. A show put on for everyone who didn't know better.

Emma knew better now.

Mary Margaret looked down to where Emma and Regina were still touching. Regina had laced her fingers with Emma's. Her other hand, that one with the graying bandage, was squeezed into a fist.

Mary Margaret frowned. Caught herself, and forced an even faker smile. "We all made it. We survived."

"Yes," Regina mused, her voice suddenly silky and dangerous. "We all did." She directed their attention to the crumpled form of their murderer. 

"Who is he?"

"I don't know." Regina's voice dropped an octave. Emma's locket turned cold. "But I will."

 

####

Emma vetoed Regina's plan to rouse their mystery murderer and interrogate him immediately. When David returned, thunderstruck at the condition of Main Street, he was charged with taking the guy down to Cora's cell in the hospital. Emma then left Regina to take Gold and Cora to the police station.

Regina declined the offer for a ride. Seeing her mother looking content and magic-less was bad enough. Gold's obnoxiously pointed looks at Regina's hand were worse.

She went back to the hole in Gold's shop, her mother and Gold out of sight and now out of mind.

Snow and "Neal" were examining Snow's car and trying to figure out how to extricate it.

"I really think I can just back it up," Snow insisted.

"You took out a support beam with your old lady driving. You back it out and the whole building comes down."

"Is that so bad?"

"I…" Neal looked helplessly to Regina. "You want to explain to her why destroying buildings is wrong?"

"No."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"It's not like anyone in this town will miss this shop." Snow kicked a brick with the side of her foot.

"Yeah but what about all this stuff? I really doubt this is all my dad's."

"Regina can magic it outside. Right?"

"I'm not your moving service," she said sourly. "But in the interest of keeping peace--" She waved her hand and the Jeep appeared out on the street. Neal and Snow stared at the gaping hole, their eyes crawled up to look at the cracks that splintered out from it and grew larger as the the supports failed.

With one last pull of magic from deep inside of her Regina waved again and repaired the wall and devastated support beam.

It was impressive enough for Snow and the newest idiot in town. And hopefully they'd been so busy gaping at her magic to notice how flagged she was.

Neal stepped closer to inspect the newly repaired wall. "Guess I forgot magic can be good sometimes."

Snow snorted.

"Yes, I'm a regular Galinda the Good," Regina drawled.  

Snow glanced at her with too much shared amusement for comfort and Regina crossed her arms, sandwiching her bandaged hand between her arm and torso. She hoped it was a coincidence or just something to do with her heart being attacked, but it was now clumsy. 

And cold.

Snow nodded to herself. "I think we should celebrate."

"My ability to move a car?"

"No. We caught a murderer. We survived. **Everyone** survived. We should celebrate."

"Doubt Papa's gonna want to celebrate."

"He's alive," Snow snapped, "That's more than enough. We are--" She nodded again. "It's official." She clapped her hands together trying to build up enthusiasm. "All of us are celebrating."

"I don't think--" Regina and Neal both started. Then Regina blushed and Neal looked away rubbing at the back of his neck.

"We are," Snow declared again, and Regina decided her extremely long and taxing day was the reason she didn't argue further.

 

####

As parties went, Emma had had better. Granny was running low on everything but beer so they were all eating crackers and chips from the gas station while Granny tried to make enough hot food to sop up the beer.

Which tasted just a little watered down.

Granny's even glare dared her to suggest it out loud.

Emma had had enough drama for one day and contented herself with drinking as much of the beer as possible. It was cold at least, and bland enough that it didn't hit her empty stomach too hard.

But it was three pints before she felt even remotely loose.

"Keep drinking that way and you're going to be like that guy over there," Neal joked. 'That guy' was twirling his hips for a gaggle of enraptured dwarves and nuns.

"That's Leroy," she blinked and shook her head, "Or Grumpy or whatever."

"A dwarf?" He cracked a grin and craned his neck to get a better look at him. "Where's his pickaxe?"

"In the mine."

He laughed. "This town, man."

"Yeah. Fairy tales and family. Super great."

"And Henry."

Their son was sitting in a both, giant glass of milk between his hands, and in deep conversation with Regina. He looked surly and the way Regina glanced at her and Neal told her exactly what they were discussing.

"His--Regina seems…less than evil."

When Neal and Henry weren't looking Regina chanced a smile. Delicate and intimate. Emma looked away. "You met her mom. And your dad. I figure she's doing pretty good for being raised by them."

"My dad--he raised her? Really?"

"Or taught her. The way I understand it he's kind of a father figure."

Neal blanched. "But not--"

"Not actually." She frowned. "At least I don't think so. And for everyone's sake hope so." She didn't want to see what kind of complex Henry would have if it turned out his mom was also his aunt. Emma clapped Neal on the shoulder and leaned in. "You could ask her."

He laughed again. "Or I could ask my dad."

"That would require him to stop sulking and come to the party." After chatting with Gold and Cora at the station and getting multiple assurances that they wouldn't try to murder each other or anyone else in town she'd let them go. Gold had returned to his mansion.

Disturbingly, he'd invited Cora and she'd joined him.

"It's weird, you know, thinking of him without magic."

"Thinking of him at all right? I seem to recall you kind of hating him ten years ago--and running from him like it was your job this morning."

He shrugged, "And I seem to remember you never wanting to meet your birth parents." 

They were at the other end of the bar. David's arm was casually slung over Mary Margaret's shoulder and she was laughing stiffly while trying to look casual.

She sidestepped the land mine Neal had happily set in front of her. "So now that Gold's safe--now that we're all safe--what are you going to do?"

He leaned over the bar to refill his glass. "I'm sticking around." She caught a quick glimpse of skin as his shirt and hoodie rode up and looked away.

"That's new," she said.

Neal didn't argue the point. "I figure I got a lot to make up for. And Henry…I want to be there for him."

"Just him?"

"Guess my dad will need help to. How's he gonna get anyone to do stuff if he can't just torture them with magic?"

"That wasn't who I meant."

He squinted at her. Drank half his beer and set it on the counter. Sucked on his lower lip. "Maybe we should…you want to talk about this in private?"

The way he said it unleashed a flood of butterflies in Emma's stomach and she gulped down more of her beer to try and drown them. "Sure." It sounded like a squeak and she cringed.

 

####

As much as she hated herself for it Regina still tracked Emma's departure with Neal. Watched the way Emma rubbed her hands on her pants and Neal shoved his hands into his coat pockets and the way they both looked around the room to see who was watching.

"Do you think they're making up," Henry asked.

God, she hoped not. "They probably have a lot to discuss," she mused.

"Like why she didn't tell him about me?"

More like why Neal left Emma so she couldn't tell him about Henry in the first place. But Regina wasn't about to ruin Henry's image of his father. She'd tried that with Emma and had hurt her own relationship with Henry more. With Neal…with Neal she was going to force herself to be content and trust in his weak-willed nature.

"Or what he plans to do now," she said

"Move to Storybrooke." She arched an eyebrow and Henry wilted. "He could move here. Right?"

"He could." She watched him carefully, "Would you want him to?"

He chewed on his lip. A bad habit he had when thinking too hard. 

She reached out with her good hand and ruffled his hair. "You know, today was a long day. And I think, whatever happens, Neal will still be here tomorrow."

"Do you like him," he asked suddenly.

She settled back onto the bench, "Why?"

"Because," Henry swallowed and twisted his glass around in his hands like Emma did when she was nervous. "He's my dad and--"

"You don't want me cursing people during Thanksgiving?" 

He blushed but nodded.

She was being chastised by her pre-teen son. Obliquely, thankfully. The whole "party" wouldn't know that he'd just asked her not to kill people at the next family gathering. She grabbed her beer with her bandaged hand. Her fingers were rigid and difficult to control, but they managed to wrap around the glass and she brought it to her lips for a long sip.

How did a woman tell her son that she'd had a two year redemption tour and wasn't the same woman she'd been? How did she explain to him that just that morning she'd saved a life and resurrected an old foe when it would have been just as easy to kill her.

How did she explain to him that she'd changed?

 

####

Instead of leading her to the bed and breakfast Neal guided Emma to the alley behind the diner. 

It smelled like rancid fat from the grease trap. 

"This is nice. Very memorable."

"I figured taking you up to my room would send the wrong kind of message."

She motioned to herself, "Oh to me? Or everybody else? Because here's the thing Neal, serious talks in alleys that smell like a McDonald's dumpster? Kind of sends **me** a message."

"See, I knew you were gonna be mad."

"Honestly I wasn't. Then you decided we should have a heart to heart by thirty years of Granny's french fry fat."

"Fine. We'll go to the--"

"The what?"

"The park."

"But is the park even necessary? Because I can kind of pick up what you're thinking from the smell."

"Oh my god. Emma it isn't that bad."

It really wasn't. "What's that?" She took a big dramatic whiff. "Is it…oh, it's the chicken nuggets Granny fried in 1985."

He sighed again. Ruffled his hair and screwed up his face. "I'm sorry. Okay?"

"For what?"

"For everything. For taking you out here, for leaving you ten years ago, for not knowing about Henry, for having my dad for a dad--"

Emma rolled her eyes.

"What do you want man? I'm trying to apologize!"

The thing was…

Okay, ninety percent of the time Emma knew what she wanted. When she'd come to Storybrooke she'd wanted to leave as soon as possible. Then she'd wanted to get to know her son. Then save him. Then get to know her family. 

She'd given herself clear goals. Even most of what she'd done with Regina had been a part of her plan. Rehabilitate Storybrooke's Evil Queen.

But now. Now she had all these **options**. Choices she hadn't really been offered in over a year. Maybe longer.

And she had Neal. Right there in front of her! Her one in a million. The guy that had kind of ruined her for other guys. Back at the bar that afternoon he'd even joked that they were fate.

She didn't know what she wanted because in spite of everything Neal had done to her she still kind of wanted **him**.

She had to look away because she was pretty sure she was going to embarrass herself if she kept staring at him.

But he got the message. Out the side of her eye she could see him relax. Could hear the quiet sigh. "Emma," he started.

She heard him come closer, his shoes scuffing across the cement.

"Emma I--I'm engaged. Tamara and I--"

"I know. I mean, that's why you never came looking for me right? You found her?"

"No--yes. It's complicated. Whatever I felt--feel for you is complicated."

"And Tamara?"

"Isn't."

No hesitation.

If Emma had been twelve again she would have taken the opportunity to run away. But she was an adult, a sheriff, and was nearly thirty because she'd worked had at surviving. So she turned around to face him. She wanted him to lay it on the table. She needed him to. If they were gonna stick their relationship in a coffin she had to watch him hammer in the nails.

"I called her before the party. She's coming to--to help me figure stuff out."

"Handy that you can just bus your support group in."

"Yeah, not all of us can teleport," he joked. "Sorry. That wasn't--" He stopped talking. Inside people were drinking and she could very faintly hear an argument about what music to play. "The magic thing for you is new right?"

"If I could have done it when I was a teenager I don't think Henry would have been born in a prison."

Inside someone cued up "We Are Family" to a myriad of cheers and groans. Neal and Emma looked at each other at the same time and burst into easy laughter. She slumped back against the wall of the diner taking some of the pressure off her feet. 

"Welcome to Storybrooke."

"That's probably an unironic musical choice isn't it."

"A hundred percent unironic."

"Man, it's like living at Disney Land."

"Only with random crazy murderers and no rides."

"I wanted to take you there."

"You wanted to take me to Tallahassee too, but here we are in Maine."

"You could get there yourself."

"Would it be the same?"

He shook his head, "After August I don't think it can be."

Stupid August and his stupid selfishness. She should have shoved him into a wood chipper when she first met him.

Neal tapped her shoulder with his fist. Like a five year old being forced to make up on the playground. "We okay Emma?"

Probably not. She didn't know how she was ever gonna get to okay with him. But they were at least on the same page now. So she nodded. "We're okay."

"Good." And they were so not okay that he didn't catch the lie. "Good. You want to head back in?"

"Nah. I think I'm pretty sure they're gonna conga line soon. I'll wait till the next song."

Neal left and Emma looked up at the night sky. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since Regina had taken her up to her roof and shown her two worlds in one. She squinted, wondering if she could see that other sky from the alley behind Granny's.

But she couldn't. There was just a dark sky muted by lights. 

 

####

When David hit the replay button and tried to pull the Mother Superior into a dance Regina knew it was time to go. She said her goodbyes, which amounted to glaring at Granny, smiling apologetically to a weeping Belle being consoled by Red in a corner and enduring hugs from Snow **and** David.

Neal settled for a firm handshake. "I was gonna walk Henry back to his mom's place," he said, and Regina had to ball her hand up into a fist to keep from turning him into a six-foot sub the whole party could share.

"Call me," she asked Henry, and he nodded, promising her while never taking his eyes off his new father.

They went out the front door.

So she went out the back.

She was fidgeting with her keys in her pocket, jangling them against the silk lining and plotting how to deal with Maleficent when she got home.

"Headed out?"

Emma was at the other end of the alley, the moonlight haloed her hair in a cool blue glow and stole all the warmth out of her skin tone giving her a slightly ghoulish appearance.

"Your father was trying to start a nun conga line so…"

Emma smiled, "I told Neal there'd be a conga line."

"Hopefully not a successful one."

"We can only pray."

She jangled her keys again and took a bashful step forward. "Are you staying much longer?"

Emma glanced at the door to the diner. "I kind of don't even want to go back in."

"Probably don't need to. Your parents are busy and Henry's gone. Neal's taking him back to your apartment."

"Good."

"You can," she sighed and took another step, "walk me home?"

In the moonlight, with the harsh green area lamp casting its sickly glow from the other end of the alley, it was hard to read Emma. Her face was distorted by the bad lighting and heavy shadows.

She looked nightmarish. Haunting.

"After today?" After Neal.

"That--I'm not--you told me last night that you couldn't. This isn't me trying to ignore that. This is just me…wanting to spend time with someone I like."

Emma smiled, but it didn't do much to make her easier to read. "Yeah I guess all your friends are out of town huh?"

"Maleficent's back at my house, but she's not really good for peaceful walks. She'd rather be cursing babies and practicing her cutting remarks."

"Can't wait to meet her."

"Snow will deny it, but I do think you'd get along. You remind me a lot of her."

Emma raised an eyebrow, "For my ability to turn into a dragon?"

"For how you can tell me the truth. You and Maleficent are always honest--even when it hurts."

Emma stepped back, officially out of the alley way, and headed towards Regina's. Silently Regina followed. They turned early, wordlessly detouring towards the beach. The water was as black as the sky. Endless darkness stretching out past the cove Storybrooke was nestled in.

"You know yesterday Neal was just this," Emma rotated her hands around in front of herself like she was creating a fireball, "this thing. He wasn't real. And then today he's Gold's son and he's walking Henry home and putting him to bed."

Regina suspected this little speech was more for Emma than herself. 

"I've blow off a lot of people because of him. I told you I couldn't start anything with you because of him."

"I remember."

"You know, I guess I had this stupid dream he'd been taken away and one day he'd find me and we could just pick up where we'd left off. Like the last ten years were just this little detour on our way to Tallahassee."

"But he's engaged--"

"And he knew where I was. The whole time he knew who I was and he just--just let it all happen. Because of **fate**."

"I'm sorry." It came out before she could catch herself.

Emma glanced at her, "The curse. That was fate too wasn't it?"

"I thought you didn't believe in fate? I seem to remember you once told me it was just an excuse for people who did bad things."

"I don't know. I don't want to believe in it, but when the father of your child sends you to prison for a year because of it," she laughed shakily, "it kind of changes your perspective."

"I liked your perspective."

Emma rolled her eyes, "You liked some other version of me that lived in a cage or cave or something."

"Both."

Emma shivered.

"And she--I like **you** Emma. Whatever she was **you're** the person I stopped from being a tree."

"That wasn't just wishing I was her?"

"We may lie, but magic can't."

Emma stopped walking. "So what do you think then? Should I tell fate to go fuck itself?"

"You wouldn't be you otherwise."

Emma nodded, slipped her hand around Regina's waist and pulled her close. In their respective shoes Emma was only an inch or two taller. She didn't loom so much as she consumed the space around Regina. Their breasts touched. Their thighs touched. Their lockets echoed heartbeats loud in their ears. 

Emma's hand pulled her closer, her fingers pressing into the small of Regina's back.

Close enough now that moonlight and street lamps didn't matter. Emma was all shadows and muted colors but perfectly clear too. Regina knew from longing looks what color Emma's lips were. And how gold her hair would be in any other light.

"What are you doing," she asked, already knowing the answer.

Emma looked from Regina's mouth to her eyes, her own question then asked and answer. Then she smiled. Murmured. 

"Giving fate the finger."

She pressed her lips to Regina's.

For that eternity her bandaged hand didn't bother her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did I tell you? Over the hump and the words start flowing! So excited about the next few chapters. Thank you for all the lovely feedback (that is basically my version of fanfic guys), and a quick reminder, I’m terrible about responding on FF.net so if you’d like a response be sure to leave it at Ao3!

She had an assured touch. Her hands trailed up her sides with a confidence as sexy as that cocky grin on her lips. The pads of her fingers were hot against the small of her back. Bare skin on bare skin. 

Exquisite.

Her lips were wet. Searing. Pressed into the curve of her neck.

A hand in her hair. 

Teeth dragging across her skin.

Absolutely exquisite. 

And then sunlight was streaming in through the window and Regina was contemplating setting fire to the earth itself.

She was all alone in bed, the sheets damp and twisted around her legs. She'd gone to bed alone too. She and Emma had parted on the beach with shy smiles on their lips.

And then she'd had some very enticing dreams that she was being woken up from at--

She glanced at the clock.

Five in the morning.

Who on earth was waking her up at five in the morning? 

Were people even allowed out of bed that early?

They pounded on the door again and Regina flopped back onto her mattress. Her legs felt too loose and she was all keyed up. Panting and wishing she wasn't.

She blew a lock of hair out of her eyes and stared at the ceiling.

Maybe they'd go away.

Another series of knocks. Distinctly sounding like metal on wood.

Down the hall Maleficent bellowed for silence.

Another knock.

Now Maleficent was threatening to turn someone into some kind of animal. Possibly a pig? The walls muffled her voice just enough to make it hard to tell.

The knocking continued, now a constant and obnoxious drone. She heard Maleficent loudly climb out of bed and lumber down the hall--not unlike her other form.

Snatching her robe off the end of the bed Regina flashed downstairs ahead of her, "I've got it," she called up.

Maleficent eyed her from the top of the stairs. "It's five a.m."

"I know."

"Kill them."

Regina frowned.

"At least take out their tongues."

She pointedly turned her back on Maleficent and yanked the door open just as Killian raised his hook to knock again.

"Ah, you answered," he said with a charming smile.

She felt bluntness was in order. “You look awful." He had two black eyes, and a swollen nose, and a messy cowlick. And-- "What happened to your tooth?"

It was chipped.

"Aurora's fist."

There were gods who couldn't hit as hard as Aurora when she was angry.

"You deserved it."

"I'm too tired to argue that point. Mulan said she'd put me in jail if I went back to the Jolly Roger so I have to stay with you." He pushed past her into the foyer and looked up the stairs. "Which one's my room?"

"The couch."

"Come on love, you've got to have an extra bed."

"I do, its reserved for people who **don't** try and kill me."

He rubbed at his cowlick and winced when he hit--what she assumed--was a rather nasty bump. "You know that list is about as long as a short and curly don't you?"

She poofed him out of the house and slammed the door in his face.

"Regina," he wined from the other side.

She sighed.

He knocked again.

Upstairs Maleficent got out of bed about as quietly as a six-hundred pound gorilla.

Regina missed sleep.

 

####

After magically muffling Maleficent's bedroom and getting Killian bathed, bandaged and fed Regina crawled back under the covers and slept like the dead until past eleven. When she stumbled downstairs wiping sleep out of her eyes she found her two houseguests gathered around the kitchen island inspecting one of Henry's TV dinners they'd found in the freezer.

Maleficent had magicked her way into a hip hugging skirt and classy silk blouse and was sucking down another Coke. Killian   had found the wine and was drinking it straight out of the bottle.

And wearing nothing but a towel.

The man had more chest hair than sense.

"Where are you clothes?"

He nodded towards the window. His favorite outfit was flapping in the breeze. "She threatened to burn them if I didn't wash them."

"You couldn't make him new clothes?"

Maleficent eyed Killian's bare torso coyly, "I was enjoying the view."

"Enjoy the syphilis too."

"You said I was clean," he protested.

"What's syphilis?"

Killian looked down. "I **am** clean aren't I?"

Maleficent recoiled, "Oh. Never mind." She sounded as grossed out as Regina felt.

"She assured me I was clean." He started to undo his towel in an effort to force Regina to relive the darkest and most uncomfortable minute of her life.

"You're going to be more than clean if you whip that thing out. And I just came down for lunch. Which requires pants. Go put some on."

"They're wet!"

She snapped and Killian’s towel instantly morphed into skinny jeans and a worn grey t-shirt. "Sorry the pants are so tight. I ran out of fabric with just the towel."

"No problem," Maleficent purred.

Disgusting.

Killian bit his lip and tugged at the crotch. “I think I might be losing blood flow.”

“I know how to get it going again,” Maleficent claimed, her eyes fixed on his lip.

Reprehensibly disgusting.

Hoping she could distract them both like cats she waved at the frozen dinner on the counter. “Why is that out?”

“The pirate claimed he could cook it with magic.”

She glanced at Killian, who grinned. 

“You know magic?”

He nodded. “I can make fire too. And trap people in tiny boxes.” He motioned to the TV.

Regina stepped closer to him and dropped her voice, “You do know she’s the Mistress of Evil and can turn into a dragon don’t you?”

He whispered, “Why do you think I’m doing it? I’d rather her terrified and impressed than merely attracted to me.”

“Disgusting.”

“Looks fade love, but the ability to use a microwave never does.” 

He had a point. She rounded on Maleficent and smiled brightly, “He’s also enchanted that box over there to freeze things.”

Beside her Killian nodded.

“And he can claim people souls with this device called a ‘camera.’ It’s quite impressive.”

He leaned across the counter and employed some of his most heavy handed flirting, “I’m something of a big deal.”

 

####

Mulan stopped by the loft at five fifteen in the morning to tell Emma she and Aurora were taking the day. “We drove all through the night,” she said wearily, “Aurora lectured him,” she’d looked deadly serious, “the entire time.”

Emma had winced. “She’s that mad about the him trying to kill Gold?”

“She’s that mad about him shoving her and Regina into a pit with a fire-breathing fairy ghost dragon.”

“Right.”

“She feels…betrayed.”

“He’s a pirate.”

Mulan shrugged, and for a split second a melancholic haze drifted over her, “She trusted him.”

Apparently Aurora hadn’t been the only one.

Emma had had trouble sleeping after Mulan left. She paced around the apartment until a sleepy Mary Margaret told her to go back to sleep or get out. So after a glass of orange juice and a huge bowl of cereal Emma headed to the station.

She took the longest and most roundabout route there, accidentally driving past Regina’s house three times. The lights were off each time and the locket inert. Either Regina wasn’t wearing it or she was dead to the world.

She **had** been exhausted. Besides the fight with their murderer she’d apparently resurrected Aurora’s archenemy and bound their souls together.

Maybe that was why she’d let Emma kiss her. And kiss her. And kiss her.

Just thinking about the kiss had Emma sighing and slumping down in the Bug. She’d heard about kisses that felt like the end of the world but she’d never experienced it until Regina. 

Regina held on tight and gasped into Emma’s mouth and sighed whenever their lips parted. One hand stayed in Emma’s hair the entire time, her nails pressed into her scalp. She’d kept herself pressed close to, from knees to chest, so that every inhalation had pulsed through them both. 

It had been—

Emma had had to drive away before someone she knew had noticed her having erotic day dreams outside of the mayor’s house.

The station was a cold shower in comparison. Gold had gone home the night before, healed but defeated, but he’d insisted Cora stay in the jail and Emma, not really knowing what to do with the woman, had obliged.

No one had come looking for her. Even Regina had avoided asking about her mother.

But that morning Cora was sitting primly on her cot. No dark circles, no wrinkles in her suit. She’d saved a man’s life and sacrificed her own magic to do it and she looked—satisfied.

“You look terrible sheriff.”

“And you look shockingly refreshed. Suck up some poor person’s soul in the night?”

Cora rewarded her crack with a brittle smile.

“Have you seen Regina?”

Emma was in the middle of making coffee and froze. She tried not to sound nervous—like she was saying too much, “Why?”

“I was hoping she’d visit last night. Or today. Is she all right?”

“She’s fine.”

Cora was very still, “You’re not telling me something.”

“I’m not telling you a lot of things. All you need to know is Regina’s fine. As is your grandson, you know, if you’re wondering.”

“Henry,” she studied Emma, “I’d like to meet him.”

“That’s not up to me. And if it was, you wouldn’t.”

“Afraid I’ll be a bad influence?” She feigned surprise. “Compared to my daughter?”

Emma poured her coffee and took a seat on top of the desk opposite Cora’s cell. “Cards on the table?” 

Cora nodded.

“I think bad moms like you are a dime a dozen, and I think my son and his mom are smart enough, and resilient enough, to handle you if they had to. But right now I have it in my power to make sure you never even set eyes on them, and if I can do that? And keep them from having to go down the rabbit hole an asshole like you creates? Than I’m going to do that.”

Cora leaned back, “That certainly is a full deck of cards you laid on the table.”

Emma nursed her coffee. It needed creamer. And sugar. But she wasn’t about to load up on that in front of Cora. 

“So my heart,” Cora asked, head tilted in curiosity, “you’ve given no thought to that?”

“My guess is ripping your heart out wasn’t what made you a monster Cora. **My** guess is if you had magic and a chance you’d be destroying this whole town just for a **taste** of power.”

“You should know it isn’t power I crave now, Sheriff.”

“Oh? Then what is it?”

“Love.”

 

####

At ten, official beginning of operating hours in the station, Gold and Belle clacked in, his cane and her heels snapping on the tile. 

“We’d like to bail her out,” Belle declared, her head held high and her chin jutting out.

“To what? Murder her?”

Extreme distaste flickered on Gold’s face.

“To help her,” Belle said. “Rumple—we—owe her a debt.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.”

Belle subtly elbowed Gold and he stepped forward, his face tight and his self-control visible, “I’m not going to kill her Ms. Swan, you have my word.”

“He could only try,” Cora said from her cell.

“No one’s killing anyone,” Belle interjected.

“You already got one sociopath Belle, you sure you want to put another on your plate?”

Belle didn’t even hesitate. “I want to help, Sheriff.”

Emma would have suggested volunteering at the school.

Belle didn’t budge.

So Emma turned to Cora, “I want a promise. One of those written in blood on pain of death promises from you. You can still do that can’t you?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Gold growled.

“What’s your imperious demand, sheriff?”

“Stay away from Regina and Henry.” She liked to think of the voice she was using as her “bail jumpers shit their pants” voice. It was the kind of tone that actively discouraged disagreement.

“That’s a steep demand.”

“You can watch them from afar all you want. They come up to you and you’re free to talk to them, but,” she stepped close, hooking her thumbs on her belt, “you come near them? **After** them? You **hurt** them? We’ve got a problem.”

“I don’t like threats.”

“I don’t like **you**.”

“She’ll keep her promise,” Belle called out, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Officially Emma declared she was trusting in Belle’s ability to handle crazies when she let Cora out. David disagreed when he strolled in sleepy-eyed and unshaven an hour later.

“She’s a murderer. And crazy. And a **murderer,** Emma.”

She was cleaning her gun and trying not to look at him. “Belle has her.” 

Even out of the corner of her eye she could catch how dumbfounded he was. “That’s…that’s your excuse?”

“Officially, yeah.”

“That’s a terrible reason Emma.”

She rolled her eyes, “Look, I don’t trust her okay? But I’m…I’m trying to be an optimist.”

“Cora’s your test case?”

If she was being honest—which she didn’t plan to be with David—Regina had been her test case. 

“Cora gave up her magic to save Gold. This woman repeatedly tried to kill her own daughter for power and yesterday she threw it away to save her ex. That’s—I don’t know if it’s change, but it’s gotta be something good.”

“And if she isn’t better motivated?”

“I hired insurance.”

“What kind of insurance?”

“The fluffy kind.”

 

####

Regina bent over at the waist and peered into the bush. “Red,   we’re not friends—”

“I hate you.”

“But I feel compelled to ask,” she stage whispered, “why are you lurking in a bush?”

The werewolf’s bright eyes flashed on Regina with the kind of hunger and rage that usually meant a human was about to be dinner. “Go away,” she growled.

“Are you stalking Gold?”

“No.”

“Then—“ she glanced over at Gold’s mansion. “Oh. Belle?”

Her eyes had been glowing gold in an effort to intimidate Regina, but the returned to their normally startling blue. “What—why would—I—Belle,” she finally croaked.

“She’s adorable in that Stockholm sort of way. And remarkably guile-less considering the company she keeps.”

“I don’t—Belle and I—“

Regina tilted her head and waited for the response, her mouth quirking up in amusement.

“I’m stalking your mother.”

“She’s in jail.”

“Emma let her out a couple of hours ago. She’s got me and Granny on round the clock stalking.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Red pointed at the house. And sure enough Cora—her mother—was standing in the window, watching her with an unreadable glare.

Then the woman—she smiled—like a human being. It was a shy little smile made worse by the accompanying finger wave.

Regina forgot all about Red in the bush and fled down the street. She wasn’t sure where she was going until she found herself flying into the diner. 

Emma was in a booth with a hamburger halfway to her mouth and not a single care about the sociopath on the loose. She actually grinned when she saw Regina—lighting up the whole room.

Regina stalked towards her and the grin fell.

“You heard.”

“You let her out?”

“I couldn’t just keep her.”

“You absolutely could!”

“On what charges? We had her locked up because she was scary with magic. Now she’s just a person and we don’t **actually** have a law for attempted world domination.”

“I’m the mayor. I’ll write one in half an hour.”

“Regina.”

“Emma.”

Emma nodded to the seat opposite her and Regina, a little reluctantly, took a seat.

“Someone gave me a pretty great example of how people can change and I figure I owe it to Cora to let her prove she can too.”

“She can’t.”

“Mary Margaret used to say the same about you.”

“Because she’s an idiot.”

“Regina.” She was developing an uncanny gift for using Regina’s name as an admonition. Then her hand reached under the table to lightly brush against Regina’s knee.

She hadn’t realized she’d been bouncing it until the cool pads of Emma’s fingers touched bare skin.

“I’ve got Ruby watching her, and with our murderer caught Aurora can move her whole crazy surveillance set up onto Gold’s lawn. That woman isn’t going to even be able to pee without us knowing.”

“You don’t think you’re underestimating her?”

 

####

It was an honest question, said plaintively and with enough worry to create tiny wrinkles in Regina’s brow.

But Emma liked to think she wasn’t underestimating Cora. With Ruby and Aurora and others helping Cora was going to be watched like a hawk.

And Emma had made her swear to stay away from Regina and Henry—redirecting any of Cora’s anger towards Emma. It put a giant target on **her** back.

“I think I know your mom,” Emma replied. “I told her I’ve known people like her all my life, and that’s true. Let me worry about her.”

Regina scowled, “One kiss and your tackling the in-laws?”

It was an old fashioned Regina remark, but tempered with just enough affection to keep from stinging. Warmth spread over Emma’s cheeks. “That’s not—this…this is cop stuff.”

Regina’s concern disappeared—quickly replaced with veiled amusement. “Moving awfully fast don’t you think?”

“Hey, you cursed your in-laws. What’s a little government sanctioned stalking by comparison?”

Regina shrugged—not arguing the point. Wordlessly she reached across the table and took a fry off Emma’s plate. Somehow the scene that had been building into something nasty was deflated. Around them, and unobserved by Regina, their audience in the diner sighed and returned to their lives. 

“Mulan and Aurora came back last night.”

“I know. Mulan woke me up at five.”

“She dropped Killian off at my place.”

“He’s staying with you?”

“For the time being. I do agree with Aurora and Mulan—at least I will when I speak with them. He shouldn’t be left alone on that boat of his right now.”

“You sound like you’re actually worried about him.”

Regina looked surprised, “I am. He’s my friend. Why wouldn’t I be worried?”

“Because you don’t have friends.”

“I also don’t kiss people on the beach.” 

“No, that’s my thing. I’m very proud of it.”

Regina leaned forward, chin on fist, “You’re very good at it too.”

“We could go do it some more if you want.”

One eyebrow quirked upward, “You’re moving fast.”

“I’m tired of waiting.”

“Pining for me all this time,” Regina joked.

Or she tried. There was something careful and guarded behind the joke. Regina was wary of Emma and her answer.

Emma swallowed the fry she’d been chewing on too long and reached out with her foot, brushing it along Regina’s calf. “You know what I was thinking about this morning.”

Regina shook her head, “I don’t.”

“I was thinking how annoying it was that I was up too early to come by and say hi.”

“You were not.”

She leaned across the table, her weight all on her elbows. “Whatever I was confused about lately? It’s over. And I’m not gonna dwell on it.”

“Everyone dwells,” Regina said softly. Passionately.

“Not me. The past is the past, Regina. I’m over it.”

“Him?”

“Yes.” It didn’t sound like a lie. It spat out of Emma’s mouth like the truth. It **was** the truth. She couldn’t be hung up on a guy that betrayed her as badly as Neal. And why would she? Why would she when she had Regina?

“Most people can’t just turn it off that easily,” she grumbled.

Most people being Regina and her family. They probably had vendettas against kids the tugged on pigtails in kindergarten.

“I’m the Savior.”

That earned an eye roll. “You just say that when you want to sound important.”

“Also Sheriff.”

“Also an ass.” It was said with a smile.

“Are you gonna trust me on this thing with your mom,” Emma asked—quickly returning the conversation to the point where it began.

Regina sat back in the booth and studied Emma. “What’s got me worried so much isn’t necessarily my mother, but your sudden optimism regarding her. You’re usually irritatingly pragmatic.”

“I told fate to fuck off last night.”

“I know,” she said softly, “you’re doing a lot of things out of character.”

Emma couldn’t argue with that, so she returned to her lunch, pushing the plate to the middle of the table so they could share.

Regina, politely, didn’t try to dig in and ask more. Instead she ordered herself a sandwich and a coffee and they ate in careful silence punctuated only, first, by feet grazing calves and then, later, encouraging smiles when they both thought no one was looking.

When they left the diner it was together and in step. 

“Hospital,” Regina asked.

And Emma nodded.

They took a sun dappled side street shaded by big oak trees. Hands fell out of pockets and brushed against other hands. Then fingers intertwined with other fingers and they were holding hands and neither could say who started it.

 

####

The hospital was a fruitless endeavor from a work standpoint.

The mystery murderer was still unconscious after being flung across creation by Emma. They peered through the window in the door to watch him sleep and Regina fought the butterflies that welled up in her stomach at the sight of him.

He was Henry but she kept having to remind herself he wasn’t. She had to remind herself of all the disguises her mother and Rumpel had used over the years. Remind herself that anyone with enough talent could transform themselves.

But with Henry’s face plastered onto his body he was a disturbing entity—almost as terrifying as if Henry were still alive and lying in the cell instead. 

“You okay,” Emma whispered—quiet enough that the nurse at the end of the hall couldn’t hear.

She wasn’t. Not as long as this man and his mysteries were in her town. But she nodded. “He just looks like someone I used to know.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Emma squeezed her hand and they stepped away from the door. “I kind of think it does matter,” she said softly as they climbed the stairs. “That face keeps getting into your head.”

“ **That** matters. But who he’s trying to be? Doesn’t.”

They stopped at the to of the stairs, Emma’s hand on the door knob. “So you want me to leave it alone?”

Regina had chosen a pair of heels she knew, for a fact, put her at eye level with Emma. Just in case they found themselves in a dark corner and back alley or lonely beach. She looked her in the eye. “I’m not pressing you on some pretty important questions, so yes, quid pro quo would be nice.” 

The light at the top of the stairwell was out. Technically it counted as a dark corner.

Emma exhaled loudly, blowing the air up into her hair. “Emotional blackmail and this is still a better relationship than my last one.”

It was said with just the right amount of contrition and humor. Regina was powerless. She had to duck in and press her lips quickly to Emma’s. “I like this low bar you’re setting for us.”

“Don’t thank me,” Emma said, and snatched a kiss of her own, “this is all Neal.” She quickly kissed Regina again; before her displeasure at the mention of him could appear on her face.

When it came to the two of them the line was difficult to see, let alone grasp, and before either of them could stop it Emma had her hand on Regina’s waist tucking her in closer and Regina had her good hand in Emma’s hair and inappropriate and delicious heat was blossoming.

“We should probably leave,” Regina gasped between more breathless kisses. It felt **right** to be kissed this way.

“I’ve been waiting to do this all day,” Emma panted. She pushed Regina’s hair away from her neck and planted wet kisses against her pulse point. “All night too.” The words rumbled through Regina.

Her head dropped back to thump against the door. The noise was just loud enough to pull her out of her happy haze.

She sighed. Her mind flitting to the way another woman had kissed. She found herself then, even wrapped up in Emma, comparing the two.

And hating herself for it. 

Hating herself for the way she knew that the other woman kissed like it was the end of the world while the one in her arms kissed like the world was just beginning. Hating herself for how they smelled the same, but that the salt in one Emma’s hair had the mineral tang of caves while the other smelled like the ocean.

Hated herself so much it would have been hard to breathe. To stand. 

But Emma was there. Different, and the same, and maybe not hers, but **there**.

“We really should leave,” Regina murmured. Her heart was beating so fast she was positive only Emma’s hand on her chest kept it from flying out.

Emma nodded against her cheek. Sighed. She took her hand from Regina’s waist but didn’t move. She was leaning against Regina—pressing her into the door. “Are you going to tell me what’s happening?”

“I don’t—“

She felt a finger tap the locket on her chest. Emma wasn’t looking at her still. Just pressing against her and breathing quickly, her lips a whisper on Regina’s skin. “I can feel it Regina. Everything.”

 **She’d** been able to feel it to. In a dark bar in a dystopian future. She’d looked at Regina and known every part of her.

“It’s complicated,” she finally sighed. “So…” She pressed her forehead to Emma’s. “Complicated.”

Emma swallowed, the sound reverberating through them both. “Will talking help?”

“Does it ever?”

Silence wrapped around them again. It was fast becoming the third wheel in their new relationship. Only as third wheels it was better than ex-boyfriends or dead sons.

They stepped out of the stairwell, red cheeked and clothes askew and ran headlong into a stranger in a hospital gown.

He was tall, with wide, familiar eyes. He pretended to focus on Emma as they chatted, but those bright eyes kept falling on Regina.

“This is Regina Mills,” she heard Emma say. “The mayor.” There was a touch of pride there Emma had **never** had for Regina.

“Of Storybrooke,” the stranger asked. His voice was high and raspy and like his eyes niggled something at the back of Regina’s memory.

“Regina, this is Greg, he’s the guy who thought the town sign needed replacing.”

The car crash victim that had nearly taken her out days earlier. It felt like decades ago. “Glad to meet you when you aren’t behind the wheel.”

He didn’t blush despite the gentle teasing. “Glad to meet you too.” She’d been evil enough of her days to recognize a sinister tone, but it flew straight past Emma—a much better people reader than Regina.

“Have we met before?”

He shook his head and grinned, “I’d remember.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extended calm before impending storms? Don't mind if I DO.

She didn’t tell Regina **why** she was abandoning her when they left the hospital. Somehow telling your…Regina that you had to leave to go meet your ex’s fiancé was all just a little tacky.

And despite once having a fondness for wiglets, bustiers and MAC cosmetics Regina **hated** tacky. 

They casually agreed to try and meet later that night if time allowed and she hot-footed it back towards the bed and breakfast, pausing outside to make sure her badge and gun were both clearly visible and impressive looking and to twist her hair a little to perk up the curls that had been dragged down from heated make out sessions in hospital stairwells.

Also to wipe the grin off her face. It kept popping up. Especially when thinking about Regina.

Which was just—she’d gotten really good at ignoring Regina’s looks and not thinking about True Love’s kiss and she was still, for the most part, avoiding all that. But those private smiles only she got? Those were hard to ignore. Same went for the little gasps when she ran her hands up Regina’s sides. Or the eyerolls always chased by a gentle grin.

Regina **liked** her. There was no baggage or promises. Just two people enjoying each other’s company. No strings attached.

“You’re smiling,” Henry observed. “A lot.” He was standing at the top of the stairs and looking all the world like his mom when Emma confused her. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Did Cora explode?”

“No.”

“Did Hook fall off his boat and die?”

“No.”

“Did someone eat his bird?”

“We can only hope, kid.”

He tried to make himself broad in an effort to block her coming up the stairs, but he was a little kid and all that happened was his chest puffed out a little. “Then why are you smiling?”

“Ever think I just had a good day?”

He glared. On him it was more a surly squint.

“We gotta work on your ‘tell me everything’ evil eye,” she joked, and she ruffled his hair for good measure, loving the way he leaned into it while pretending he hated it.

“Something **had** to happen.”

“It did, but I’m not telling you.”

“But—“

“It was adult stuff Henry,” she looked down her nose to stare at him, “real adult stuff.”

That earned her a quick blanching and then a deep blush.

“How’s your morning been?” 

Mary Margaret had called to let her know Neal picked him up at eight for a day of father, son and fiancé bonding.

“We walked around. Got hot cocoa. Talked. He checked his phone **a lot**.”

“People do that.”

“Not here.”

Fair. The entire town was stuck in 1998, wielding brick-like phones that could kill a person **and** take a bullet. About the most they were capable of doing besides making calls was playing Snake.

“I think he was checking on his girlfriend.”

“Fiance,” Emma corrected. 

Henry pushed open the door to Neal’s bedroom without preamble and flopped onto the bed, feet carefully avoiding the covers. “Do you think she’s nice?”

Emma eyed the door to the bathroom. Neal must have not been in there. She hoped. 

Otherwise Henry had manners as bad as Regina.

She sat down next to him, the dip in the mattress rolling him lightly into her. “I think your dad has good taste.”

“He could have better taste.”

She sighed and flopped backwards. The ceiling overhead was devoid of water stains, cracks, or pot marks. Granny kept a B&B as clean as her diner. 

Henry was staring at the light ceiling fan. Lying down his face was slack—just a bare amount of tension around the mouth.

“You know,” she said, watching the tension grow, “your dad and I are—“

“I know,” he snapped.

“I’m happy for him. Really.”

He twisted his head to stare at her with shining hazel eyes. “Why did you lie?”

He’d asked that the day before. He’d **accused** her the day before. “I didn’t…” Henry wouldn’t look away. So Emma took a deep breath. “I didn’t want you to hate him like I did.”

“Why?”

“Because—“ She couldn’t keep looking at him. His eyes were too sharp and they bore in. She twisted around so she was lying on her side and reached out to brush some of the hair from out of his eyes. He only barely flinched. “I’m new to this Henry. Especially when you first asked. So I went on impulse.”

“You can't lie."

He meant, "I shouldn't."

But Henry shook his head, "No you **can't**. Moms can't lie.” There was a lot of baggage there. A scared kid still wounded by his mom's actions.

She let her thumb run across his cheek. The slight rise of a mole and dip of a scar. When she spoke again it was soft and careful. “That’s the thing. I never had a mom, Henry. Or a dad. So all I could go on—all I can go on—is what **I** know. And me kid?” She gently tugged on his chin until he was looking directly at her, “If it was me I'd want that lie. Especially because…I never thought he was coming back.“ She tried to smile, “Out of sight, out of mind.”

Henry’s face was still very still, “My mom thought she was protecting me too.”

“I know.”

“She made everyone think I was crazy.”

“She did a lot of bad stuff.”

“Did you?” There was fear there. Innoncent and painful to see.

“No kid.”

“Do you think,” his face distorted with thoughts too profound for a pre-teen, “she’s better?”

There was no hesitation. “Yeah. I do.”

“And my dad…if he’d known about me?”

That was just about the one other thing Emma was sure of, “He never would have left.”

 

####

They clomped up the stairs together, the laughing the preceded them giving Emma way to good a look at their ease with each other. And when all four of them were in Neal's room it…it got a little claustrophobic. Tamara kept smiling politely and taking up a lot of space Emma was irrationally jealous of and Neal and Henry bounced with the exact same nervous energy. Emma wondered if anyone would be offended if she ran and opened a window.

But all that space Tamara took up, the woman wasn’t nervous. She looked like one of those unflappable kind of people who took photographs in war zones or jumped out of planes for fun. At when she wasn’t standing beside Neal, their hands tenderly clasped together.

She was, however, shocked when Neal shyly reintroduced her to Emma. Betrayal and recognition flitting across her features. 

“She’s my—“ he tried to say the words, but stumbled over them.

So Emma offered them, and her hand, instead, “Ex-girlfriend.”

Tamara didn't even wait, quickly turning her focus to Henry, who stood beside Emma and stared way too much to be polite. “And this,” she asked, her eyes darting from Neal to Emma and back again.

Neal was still shy, but not scared of the words that time. “This is my son, Henry.”

A lot went on after that. Faced with a town of fairytales and an ex-girlfriend and she was okay, but faced with her fiance's son and Tamara flinched. Or rather she looked beaten. Then just as quickly she was back to herself and focusing dark eyes on Emma.

"Is that why you were in New York? Tracking Neal down?" 

"Yes, I mean no. Not for Henry at least. Neal's father's lives here  too."

She looked back at her fiance skeptically. "Your father and your ex live in the same tiny as--town?"

"It's complicated," Emma and Neal said at in sync.

Tamara shook her head. "This is..I just thought--I mean you told me on the phone but I thought you were--"

"Nuts," Emma said sagely.

"Yeah!"

"Believe me. I've been there. Imagine having the son you gave up for adoption show up on your doorstep ten years later and claim Snow White's your mom."

"Snow White?"

"She's at school right now."

"Why isn't he," she pointed at Henry.

"I got suspended."

"He punched Gretel."

Tamara shook her head again, and Emma had to admit, that when she wasn't the one being confused the whole thing was pretty funny.

"But they just think they're fairytales right? Like those LARP people?"

She got three headshakes.

"Jesus…" she caught herself and nodded towards Henry, "Sorry."

"No offense taken," he said brightly.

Being a completely normal and sane human being Tamara was trying not to freak out and only half succeeding. Emma caught Neal's eye and motioned to the door.

"Let's go on a tour," he said brightly.

"Somewhere a little less hostile than a tiny bedroom surrounded by your fiance's love child and ex-girlfriend," Emma added.

Henry brightened considerably, "We can get ice cream."

"Kids who got expelled for punching don't get ice cream."

The shot at parenting was reflexive--firing out of Emma's mouth before she had time to remember that Henry was mad at her and had a tendency to disown parental figures when angry with them.

She tensed, waiting for an embarrassing rejection in front of Neal and Tamara.

But it never came. 

Henry was already out the door and dragging his new dad and potential stepmom behind him and detailing the grand History Of Granny's Bed and Breakfast.

The tour took them all over town. Henry had a lot of the breathless excitement of his that she hadn't seen in a while and he kept using fairytale names instead of actual names when detailing things that had happened. 

"That's where the Queen of Hearts, Snow White and the Evil Queen saved Rumpelstiltskin," he said, pointing to the pieces of rubble on the street outside Gold's shop.

"Aren't the Evil Queen and Snow White supposed to hate each other?"

"They did, but the Evil Queen isn't actually evil any more."

Tamara pretended to understand.

A loud series of booms and a flutter of birds out of the trees drew everyone's attention to a neighborhood off the main drag.

"What's going on over there? Cranky giants?"

Emma cocked her head and listened to the birds--and then immediately hated that she understood birds. "It's the Basile estate."

"Who," Neal asked.

"Sleeping Beauty," Henry explained.

Neal smirked, "Someone trying to wake her up?"

"Nope," Emmma shook her head, "She had a rough day yesterday and she's just"--there was another boom--"working out some frustration."

"On what?"

Another boom.

"Nothing living I hope."

 

####

"Pull!"

Mulan yanked on the cord and the little orange disk shot into the air. It sailed through the sky crystal clear blue sky completely oblivious to the wad of pellets Aurora had fired at it. It's trajectory brought it down on the other side of the garden where a small pile of too intact clay targets was forming.

"Again," Aurora growled.

Mulan shook her head and came around the skeet shooter, laying her hands on Aurora's hips and whispering in her ear. SHe lifted her arms to wrap around Aurora's, better guiding the gun.

"Regina you want to help," she called behind her.

"I didn't think you heard me come up with all the bad shooting."

Mulan glanced over her shoulder.

"Right." Regina waved her hand and the skeet shooter launched another clay pigeon into the sky. 

Together Mulan and Aurora tracked it. Mulan's lips were a breath away from the shell of Aurora's ear--whispering instructions.

"Now," Regina just barely heard.

Aurora squeezed the trigger and the pigeon shattered.

Regina clapped, "The great Sleeping Beauty slays another foe."

"They're harder to hit than it would appear."

"For a princess and a shotgun maybe. Mulan send another one up." She forged a ball of fire in her hand.

But Mulan crossed her arms and shook her head, "No."

"Oh come on."

"You just want to show off."

"Exactly."

Aurora popped the empty shells out of her shotgun and hooked it across her arm, "Your ego doesn't need the boost."

"And your's does?"

"I wasn't--this was getting out agression."

"Why? We caught Merryweather's killer."

Aurora huffed indignantly, "Do I need to remind you that just yesterday my friend tried to kill me."

"Oh I remember. What with being there and being betrayed too."

"That's different, you're best friends with the Mistress of Evil."

"Maleficent never betrayed me."

"You betrayed her," Mulan noted.

"Precisely. If anyone is going to commit an epic betrayal and nearly murder their friends it's me!"

A breeze off the bay caught in the trees.

Aurora closed the gun, still unloaded, and set it by the skeet shooter. "Is he staying with you?"

"He **and** her."

Mulan snorted, "Regina's Home For Wayward Villians."

"Very funny."

"What did Emma say?"

"Nothing."

Aurora frowned. "Why are you blushing?"

"I am not." It was warm.

"She blushes when you say Emma."

Very warm. "I do not."

Aurora stepped closer and **peered** , "Emma."

"Stop that."

She smiled, not unlike Maleficent, "Did you tell her?"

Regina tried to glare her into silence. Unfortunately Aurora had had an arch nemesis since she was a baby and was immune to all but the most evil expressions. 

"You told her!" She clapped.

Mulan sigh, "Good for you."

"Was it romantic or just…" Aurora lowered her voice, "dirty."

"We banged like bunnies right outside Grannies--I'm not here to talk about Emma," she snapped, "I'm here to talk about the alcoholic you two abandoned on my doorstep at five in the morning."

They both looked away. 

"He's been there less than a day and has already lost his pants and made a pass at Maleficent."

"They deserve each other," Aurora said succintly.

"And I deserve them? In my house? Together?"

"You're the one that ressurected her."

Regina scoffed, "Oh don't act like any of us had a choice in **that** fiasco. One which, if we're going to be examining with abandon, saved your life. She can't kill you now without offing herself."

"And I can't kill her."

"Were you going to? You're about as lethal as a fart in the wind most days."

Aurora reached for the shotgun and Mulan bravely stepped between them, hands held out. "You two yelling at each other because you don't want to yell at Killian is not helping anyone. So can you stop? For five minutes?"

Aurora bounced on the balls of her feet and eyed Regina, who really did have to apologize first. She'd just lied to get a rise out of Aurora, needlessly escalating things because it was easy.

God, all the well-adjusted idiots were rubbing off on her.

"I'm sorry."

Mulan looked to Aurora. 

She tried not to groan, "I don't actually hate you for bring Maleficent back to life."

"Thank you," Mulan sighed, "now hug."

Neither of them responded.

"Back to the idiot in my kitchen," Regina announced--changing subjects, "He can't stay at my house indefinitely. Either Maleficent will realize he's conning her or I'll accidentally kill him for leaving the seat up."

"So kick him out," Aurora muttered.

"He wouldn't even **be** there if you two hadn't left him."

Aurora crossed her arms, "If it were up to me we would have left him in a ditch off the road somewhere around Boston."

"You want him dead?"

"This wasn't that little job he pulled in Asgard, Regina. This was him pushing me straight into the undead arms of Maleficent, the woman who vowed to murder me when I was a baby."

"Curse, not murder."

"It's not funny."

Regina thought it was a **little** funny. Cursing babies was so silly. Entire lands while crashing a wedding? That took pizzazz. 

"What if he'd betrayed you to…Snow White?"

"He thinks she's dowdy."

"Then Gold. Or your mother when she had magic. You're telling me you wouldn't be furious?"

"Of course I would, but I'm not a role model for anger management am I? You and Mulan are the heroes, remember? Killian and I have always been gray hats with murky loyalty issues."

"The difference is you bothered to change for the people you care about and he threw us into a pit. And the worst part is he doesn't regret it."

"He does--"

"He doesn't! As far as he's concerned everything turned out all right so he shouldn't have to deal with what he did."

"Show her," Mulan said quietly.

"Show me what?" 

Aurora pulled her phone out and tapped on an icon. "He sent me an apology," she groused, "on **Instagram**."

"Killian can't even turn his phone on most days how's he supposed to--"

Aurora stuck the phone in Regina's face. There was a picture of Killian pouting and Maleficent "photobombing" and the caption  "sorry @sleepingwarrior."

She blinked. Her jaw was slack. Her mouth suddenly incapable of forming words. "I--"

"He 'grammed it Regina."

 

####

"You know how to use **Instagram**?" Regina didn't quite shout.

Killian looked up from his spot on the couch, a Pringle halfway to his mouth. "You told me to integrate."

"So you sent Aurora a passive aggressive apology via social media."

"The apology was genuine."

"She was in it," she jabbed a finger in Maleficent's direction. She'd acquired a two-liter bottle of Coke at some point in the day and was drinking from it with a straw.

"I was showing her the functions of the phone."

"You--"

"Show me your tits!"

Regina curled her hand into a fist so quickly her knuckles popped. "When did the bird get here?"

Sinbad was sitting on the mantle, his beady bird eyes focused on her decollatage.

"Found him while making a snack run," Maleficent said. "You know for a place that was supposed to be everyone's worst nightmare this world isn't half bad."

"I'm sure your ass will disagree if you keep drinking all that soda." Which wasn't true. Maleficent had eaten the entire cake at Aurora's parents wedding without gaining a pound and when they'd been young evil doers together half their time had been spent consuming other people's food in front of them while laughing. Her magic burned calories almost as fast as Regina's.

"Make out," Sinbad sqwaked.

She threw a fireball without a second thought, but Sinbad was faster, and landed on Killian's chest. He put his hand around it protectively, "Stop trying to torch my bird."

"He talks about my tits, ass or any other part of me again and I'm serving him at Thanksgiving."

"What about your eyes?"

"She's what Circe used to call 'cow-eyed," Maleficent said too sagely.

"You apologize to Aurora, like a real person."

"Real people apologize that way. Aurora told me so."

"Real person Killian. Flowers. Wine. Mow her lawn if you have to. But make it right."

"Love, she's an actual fairy princess and I'm the fellow she trusted that tried to murder her. She needs time."

"Henry's the son of the Savior and he forgave me just fine. YOu can make it worked," she growled.

Maleficent snorted.

Killian looked skeptical, "Has he?"

 

####

Emma shivered in the middle of the street. Like ice water had been dumped on her head.

Henry was the only one to notice and asked quietly, "You okay?"

She was, but her eyes wandered towards the direction of Regina's house. Someone had just made her **real** cranky. "I'm fine." 

Their tour of town had led them back to Granny's, where Tamara was planning on napping while Neal and Henry played ten-year catch up.

"You want to come in," Neal asked.

"No, no, I'm good. I've got to get back to the station anyways. Yesterday was kind of busy."

The corners of his eyes crinkled, "Kind of?"

"Somehow **not** the busiest day ever in town."

"That was the time the Four Thieves blew up Granny's fighting my grandparents." The kid was way too excited about that. 

"But um," she looked from Neal and Tamara to Henry, "you guys gonna be okay? I can call Regina or David or--"

"We'll be fine Emma. We'll have something to eat and then Henry's gonna take us around town some more."

"I can show you the giant dog car!"

"You guys have a giant dog car?"

"It's a long story."

"Fairy fight," Henry said unironically.

Emma left before she had to help explain that one.

 

####

"How's Henry?" 

With just one eye David seemed infinitely more focused. It shined like a chip of glass in the harsh overhead lights of the police station.

"He seems pretty okay. The drama with Hook and Gold, and Neal and his fiance in town have him half forgetting to be mad at me."

"Hopefully he takes after your side of the family when it comes to forgiveness."

"Right? Don't need minature Gold or Regina."

He was still staring. Perfectly still. "You walked her home last night."

 **That** was loaded sentence. Emma poured a cup of coffee and tried to laugh it off. "Had to make sure she wasn't concussed from getting flung all around town."

"And you two were working today."

"Follow up on our creepy fairy killer. I'm actually looking forward to not having to see her every day now that the case is over."

He wasn't buying it, "You walked her home."

She glanced over her shoulder and thought about making a crack about how Regina wasn't the only one with a bump on the head.

"And you smiled."

Shit.

He glanced down. "I know I can't have a right--I know I gave up a lot Emma. I understand that doing what your mother and I did has consequences," he winced, "but this--"

Emma sat down heavily at her desk. She'd poured creamer and sugar into her coffee and now watched the way it swirled around in the cup. 

This, she could feel, was a lecture. The kind she couldn't interrupt without sounding petulant. She'd been on the recieving end of just a few of these and they made her twitch.

All it was just one person saying what they didn't like and expecting the other to listen. Especially coming from a guy who wanted to be her dad, it rankled.

"She and Mary Margaret have a long, complicated history Emma. One I don't fully understand. I can't. Because your mother loves her inspite of everything they've done to each other."

"What Regina and I--we're not Mary Margaret and her."

"I know. I know. You're Henry's moms and you know her as a very different person. As weird as that is I **do** get it."

"So what's the problem, because it really sounds like you have a problem with Regina and I--" she didn't want to finish the sentence. Didn't want to put labels where they didn't belong.

"I want you to be careful."

She rolled her eyes.

"And I want," he sighed. Ran his hands through his hair to ease his frustration. "I want you to talk to me."

"David…"

"I know I'm not Mary Margaret. Hell she's barely herself right now. So you need someone to talk to about Regina and I can…I can **be** someone, Emma."

There was a lot less bitterness there than Emma would have expected, and his one eye was now kind of bleary. She could even see the fatigue. The dark circles and the lack of shaving. 

The guy looked worn out. 

Stuck in her own head and with her own stuff going on she hadn't seen it. 

David was exhausted.

And alone.

She set her cup down and moved across the office kneeling by him and enveloping him in wordless hug. David was a slim man with thick arms and a soft chest and a hard back. He was a guy it felt good to be hugged by, but he was difficult to hug back. He was like stone if it bristled in a person's arm. The coiled muscles of his back flexing against her.

She squeezed tight and held on until she felt his gentle hand on her forearm.

She couldn't…Emma couldn't call him dad. As much as she knew he needed it the word was still all wrong coming out of her mouth. But he was more than he'd been before the curse broke. He was a part of her and the smell of him, his hand on her, it all felt right.

"You're someone," she whispered into his shot cropped hair.

He pressed the top of his head against her cheek.

"I don't tell you that enough, but you are."

He pulled away, just enough that he could look up at her with a shining eye. He reminded her of Mary Margaret then. Her face after the curse had broken and Emma lost a friend and gained a mother. All the apologies and love and affection wrapped up in that look.

She resisted the urge to shudder or look away.

Then he blinked. Grinned. Deep emotion buried so swiftly she got whiplash. "So you and Regina--"

"Oh my God." She fell back. "Was that…were you just--"

"Batting my eye to get you to open up?"

She stomped back to her desk, "That's evil."

He was already leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up onto his desk with pride, "You're mom taught me. I've always been the straight laced one in the family."

"Yeah, well she…" Emma shuddered, "She taught you well."

"I am serious though. If you want to talk about it I can listen."

"And not make comments? Because heartless Mary Margaret has become a big fan of the comments."

"Judgement free." He crossed his heart.

Emma sipped his coffee.

He stared.

She continued to drink.

"Now you're not gonna tell me now are you?"

For coffee brewed that morning and forgotten it was delicious.

 

####

Regina was elbow deep in dish water, trying to scour burned cheese out of the three day old lasagna pan, when there was a tap on the glass.

She missed it at first. She was busy fuming over her house guests and worrying at a persistent piece of cheese. But the tap was steady and eventually caught her attention over the sound of water pouring into the sink.

She paused long enough to look up. Emma was on the other side of the glass, shrouded in moonlight and looking skepitically amused. When they made eye contact she nodded to the porch and ducked away.

Regina stayed at the sink a moment and tried to let the rushing water drown out her thoughts. From the other room she could hear the drone of the tv and lazy conversation between her houseguests, punctuated by the unctious squawking of the bird.

She had to remind herself that the visage of Emma tapping at her window probably wasn't fake.

And she was rewarded when she crept out onto her back porch and found Emma leaning against the wall and waiting for her with a lazy smile.

"Hey--" was met at the same time with Regina's "what are you doing here?"

"Henry's staying a little later than planned at Neal's. Thought I'd bide my time with my second favorite person in town."

Regina's dubious murmur was met with a warm kiss that melted much of the tension set in her shoulders.

"You looked tense."

"If one of us doesn't get out of the house soon this Home for Wayward Villains is going to be a smoking crater."

Emma was still smiling, "If you need a break we can lock them up at the station."

"The only person with less pateince for those three than me is Aurora. We do that and you'd have to arrest her for murder."

"So I should take you out instead?"

Regina raised an eyebrow, "Did you sneak into my backyard to ask me out on a date?"

"Too teenager?"

"I feel like one of us should be in a letter jacket." She tugged at Emma's jacket. "And by one of us I mean you."

"I thought about showing up with a mum or something, to really embrace the adolescence--"

"I'm glad you didn't. One pre-teen and a pirate are more than enough for me."

Emma nodded and darted in for a quick kiss, her hands sliding easily around Regina's waist. "So about that date…"

"To Granny's?"

"I was thinking lobster rolls sold out of a shack thirty minutes away."

"Out of town?"

"That okay?"

With Gold powerless and stuck in his mansion it was possible. But, "Henry?"

"Remember? With Neal and then strict orders to go home and go to bed. Operation You're Not Out Of Trouble Yet Kid starts tomorrow. David's taking him to the stables to clean stalls." She wrinkled her nose.

"You or the farmboy come up with that one?"

"Farmboy. If you don't like it we could always make him file stuff down at City Hall…"

"The gossip mill that is City Hall is the exact **wrong** place for Henry to be." He was as bad as Red and her grandmother.

Emma nuzzled her cheek--gleefully free with her physical expression--and then tugged on her hand. "So come on. You, me and a lobster roll on the beach."

 

####

Emma wasn't gonna go tooting any horns, but she was pretty great at date planning. It had to do with how it was a lot like planning a bust. Pick a place, make the subject comfortable, entice them by looking fantastic, and then slam their head into a steering wheel.

Or joke and make mooneyes at them like you were twelve. 

As Regina was a date and not a perp Emma settled on the latter. She'd also skipped the looking great part. Great would have been her little red dress or that suit she could pull off when she was in full swagger mode. Mediocre was the skinny jeans and leather jacket she was wearing. 

Place and comfort had been solid at least. They'd picked up a bottle of rosé and lobster rolls and settled a blanket on a beach just outside of Storybrooke. On this side of the barrier there was inky darkness where there should have been a hazy glow of civilization. They just had the moonlight and starlight for company. And the crashing waves.

They were bundled up in their jackets with another blanket around their shoulders to keep the chill at bay. It always seemed to be cold on the beach in Maine. Didn't matter the time or year. Regina kept rubbing her hands together to keep warm until Emma cupped one in between her own hands and breathed on it.

Hand indisposed Regina frowned at a distant spot, her mouth pulling down comically, "If I had magic I could just make us a fire."

Emma leaning into her, enjoying the heat the full length of Regina's body put off naturally. She dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "I think I've got a flare in the bug."

"That's not the same," Regina grumped.

And it wasn't. Emma had used just enough magic to know that. One was instaneous manifestation of Regina's desire. The other was Emma crouching over some driftwood hoping the wind didn't get too gusty.

They ate in easy silence. The length of their arms touching. Regina would stop sometimes and try to stare at Emma without being noticed and then look away when Emma glanced at her.

"As dates go," Emma ventured cautiously.

"We're relatively sober, my mother isn't murdering anyone and there aren't any fairies about looking for a threesome. Easily top ten." Regina didn't even look up from her sandwich when she said it.

"Two of those I get, but your X-rated adventures with half the cast of Midsummer Night's Dream is gonna take some getting used to."

She got careful sideeye for that, "Jealous?"

"Of Puck's riding crop?"

"Puck was more a Bottom," Regina said slyly.

Emma ignored the pun, "What about you? You jealous of all the people I've ridden off into the sunset?" It was meant to be a bit of meaningless banter and not the fishing expedition it probably sounded like.

Thankfully Regina shrugged, "Seeing as none of them got invited on this picnic I'm going with no." She finished her sandwich with a satisfying smack and looked too seriously at Emma. "Unless I wasn't your first choice?"

Shit. "Who else would be?"

"Neal."

"Old news."

"Before or after you found out he was engaged?"

Regina had a funny way of speaking like a friend and a lover all at once. Cloaking her jealousy and possessiveness in concern. It made it easy to talk to her, but being totally honest also kind of felt like she was punching Regina in the gut. So she skirted the truth. Asked a question. 

"Does it matter?"

And punched Regina in the gut anyway, because the other woman smiled sadly, lying through her teeth like she thought Emma couldn't tell. "No, I don't suppose it does."

She leaned in close and tried to maintain eye contact. That always worked for them. Even when they'd just been frenemies riding bareback through the Enchanted Forest. "He's not here Regina, you are."

"I know."

"I…" she reached out to grab Regina knee, pulling her towards her. Forcing her to look at her. "I chose you," she said softly, and the giddiness of that statement bubbled inside of her. "Not Neal."

"You're right," Regina nodded and reached out with both hands to cup Emma's face, "you chose me."

There was a tiny crack in her voice. Emotions too frightening to examine just beneath a brittle surface.

Emma surged forward to kiss her. 

Kissing was different. It shut down complicated thoughts and eradicated doubt. Pressing against Regina and feeling the hum of her against her lips made more sense than all the talking they were ever gonna do. It wasn't parents or Henry or Neal or the spectre of that other woman or even a town looking for a Savior. It was affection without strings. Easy and right even as the world lapped at their feet like the waves on the sand.

She heard Regina gasp her name and all the delicate emotion and carefully built walls were gone in that sigh. 

"We really should stop talking," she breathed against Regina's throat. She was salty and the touch of perfume behind her ear bitter.

"It's a very bad habit," Regina murmered, her hands looking for something to grab beneath Emma's jacket.

She pushed and Regina sank down onto the blanket, her leg long and sure against Emma and her fingers pulling and plucking. They danced up into Emma's hair, dragging her into another kiss that was all tongue and hot breath.

It was messy and it was right. That was all she could think as her hand trailed up a firm leg and her thigh found a perfect place against Regina's center. She flexed and delighted in the way Regina writhed against her.

All the argueing and sniping they'd done and this was the quickest way to see the whole Regina. Flushed cheeks and dark eyes and swollen lips and someone young and vulnerable and just for **her**.

"If I'd known it was this easy to get a rise," she said with another smooth thrust--

"You would have done it years ago?"

Regina's teeth grazed her ear and a sure thumb confidently dragged across her breast.

"Might have chosen someplace besides the beach though."

"All the sand," Regina agreed.

"Should we stop?"

Regina's hand snaked it way under Emma's shirt. Her fingers were cold and maddening and answer enough.

She slid her hand between her thigh and Regina, the pads of her fingers digging into the fabric. The hiss of pleasure was lost as cold fingers found there way around her bra and

"Hello?"

They had to mean something to each other because their hearts were hammering as one. Regina's horrorified face a perfect picture of Emma's own shock. They both froze, hands in inappropriate and **really** nice places.

"Come on out," the voice demanded, a thick Maine accent coloring the command.

Regina looked to her, her eyes bright, "Should we--"

"Now." It was definitely not a request.

The shining beam of a police cruiser's search light lanced across the beach, just barely missing their picnic. Emma rose first, one hand up in surrender and the other shading her eyes.

"Problem," she called.

Regina was clutching Emma's foot and panting.

"It's a private beach and you're not the owner, so yeah."

She chanced a look at Regina, "Did you know?"

"This was your date idea," she hissed back. 

"How was I supposed to know the beach was private? We're twenty feet outside of town!"

"Come on now," the man called, "Don't make me get out of the car."

"I'm…" she waved him off, "I'm sorry officer. We didn't know." She reached down and pulled Regina up, keeping herself between the cop and her girlfriend. "Just saw the beach off the road and thought it'd be a nice place to stop."

"It's a half abandoned country road. Folks don't just **wander** down it less they're looking for ghosts."

"Or going for a scenic drive," Regina offered over Emma's shoulder.

The light tried to catch Regina in it but she smoothly darted away.

"Uh huh. Real scenic at night. You guys are looking for ghosts and you can look elsewhere."

"Do we look like ghostbusters?"

"You **look** like trespassers!"

He waited, light shining on Emma, until they'd packed up their picnic and headed for the car. His light only fell on Regina as she was climbing into the Bug and Emma thought she saw a flicker of recognition slacken the trooper's face.

Emma shaded her eyes again against the light and asked, "Any other problems sir?"

More than recognition. Talking about ghosts--it was like the trooper had seen one. He shook his head. "Keep driving," he croaked, "maybe don't stop 'til Boston."

He rolled his window up before anything more could be said and Emma fought the chill climbing up her back.

The heat that poured out of the Bug's vents helped a little, but Regina caught how cold she seemed and reached across to rub a warm hand vigorously up and down her thigh.

"You all right?"

"That cop seem a little off?"

Regina's mouth quirked up into a mischevious smile, "He thought we were ghosts."

"Yeah, he seemed pretty scared when he saw you. Any reasons?"

"I've never said I spent the last twenty-some odd years years just filing budget reports did I?"

She tried to picture Evil Queen-mode Regina spooking lost drivers. "You didn't wear a sheet did you?"

Regina was appalled, "Do I look like Moe French?"

Thank God she didn't. 

Seized by the impulse Emma leaned across the console to kiss Regina's cheek. Only Regina turned and their lips met gently instead.

"He kind of ruined our night," Regina said huskily.

Emma nuzzled her nose, "Yeah. Though I'm pretty sure a couple of ghosts ruined his. Want to go haunt a more private beach?"

Regina's bandaged hand shuddered against Emma's cheek. She saw her throat bob in the moonlight as she swallowed. "We should probably go back."

There was a reason there. Something unsaid and important. But without the magic of their lockets Emma just had gut instinct and an uncanny ability to read Regina to go on. Talks of ghosts has scared her. Uprooted emotions Regina clearly wanted buried.

Emma shifted the car into gear and reached out to take her hand. She wasn't gonna press it. They both had things they were never gonna say. And that was okay.

The contact was enough.

The short drive back to Storybrooke passed by in an eery complete silence at odds with the companionable one they'd shared earlier in the night. Just the sight of her breathing and the pressure of her hand in hers let Emma know she wasn't alone in the car.

But as the endless dark of primitive forest disappeared into the glow of a warmly lit town Regina squeezed her hand.

"Emma?"

Their eyes were on the road. Both of them. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that took longer than expected. Let’s pray the I have more time now.

**I** t was a quiet week. Storybrooke settled back into the routines that had defined it for decades. It looked unassuming to people like Tamara and Greg. (The latter was sticking around town while he waited for his car to be repaired.)

The only place that really indicated it was a town full of fairytales was Regina's house, where the bird made a pass at anything that moved and Hook dodged fireballs for trimming his beard over the sink.

Being a place just kind of **drenched** in magic Emma should have wanted to stay away. But most nights she found herself stopping by and tapping on the window and sitting out on the porch with Regina until the moon disappeared over one horizon and the gray light of dawn appeared on the other.

Emma wasn't stupid. She got that she and Regina were indulging in that "it's all new" thing couples did. They'd changed their relationship and had to try and figure out how that changed the two of them--learning little quirks they each had.

Like how Regina lied when the truth was easier.

That was why everyone thought they were spending time together to teach Emma magic. Which wouldn't have been a big deal, but whenever she got back to the loft Henry or Mary Margaret wanted to see what she'd learned and she would have to puff a spoon around the room until they got tired of looking at the frilly pink smoke.

Regina's hand had been creeping into the waist of her jeans when she'd asked when she was gonna learn **actual** magic. Which had led to huffing and then joking and then a series of attempts to make a fireball.

"You're not angry enough," Regina had moaned. "You have to find your rage," she pointed at Emma with both hands, "and then direct it," she pointed the dress she'd stolen from Maleficent.

"I'm sorry I don't have the rage needed to toast your bff's clothes."

"This is polyester Emma. It should go up with a thought. So think."

"How am I supposed to get mad at a woman who thinks TV dinners are magic?"

"Who do you think turned the three little pigs into actual pigs on Monday?"

It had taken Emma the better part of two hours to wrangle the little assholes.

The polyester had gone up with a whoosh.

The cat (or in this case Regina's big fat lie) came out of the bag almost two weeks after the beginning of whatever they were.

Emma had been trying to leave but too tired from chasing down the Naked Emperor all day to stand upright. Regina had guided her to her bedroom and put her into her bed with a maternal kiss to the cheek. Emma had closed her eyes and mumbled something about being up early.

And then

Emma woke up, in Regina’s bed, alone, and with Hook lurking over her sipping coffee.

A very important long silence passed between them. Hook staring and grinning like a mad man, and Emma trying to remember where her pants and jacket were.

"Hey," Hook finally said, all too knowing.

Emma was a little more cautious with her "hey."

"So how dysfunctional is your romance that you sleep in bed with half your clothes still on?"

"Who said there was a romance?"

"The late night 'magic' sessions and the number of times Sinbad's caught the two of you down in Regina's cider cellar."

"You're trusting a bird on this one?"

"I always trust him when it comes to sex."

She jammed the heels of her hands into her eyes to wipe away sleep. "Gross."

"So," he slurped loudly, "you and Regina?"

There was something actually genuine in his question. His eyes seemed wider than usual with both of his eyebrows lifted up in curiosity.

Another cup of coffee was sitting on the bedside table, still steaming. Emma grabbed it and drank gratefully. It was too early and she was still too tired to care who had put it there. "Shouldn't you be asking Regina all this?"

"I could, but seeing as you're the one I've got to threaten, it's easier this way. Bunch of birds. One stone. That sort of thing.”

"Seriously?"

He nodded, "You know how it goes. You hurt her. I kill you. You do anything to jeopardize things between her and the boy and I make you walk the plank. All the traditional threats to a mate's new lover."

She felt her cheeks get hot, "We're not--it's not--"

His right eyebrow skyrocketed, "Wow, and here I thought I was joking. How bad are you in bed?"

She scoffed.

"I've seen Regina in action. Woman had **Circe** eating out of the palm of her hand. This is clearly on your dried up old nether--"

"It's not on me!" Her voice rang through the bedroom and she immediately cringed and how loud she sounded. "We just…Regina's got baggage because of whatever happened when she was away and contrary to popular opinion I don't actually hop into bed every time pants drop.” In point of fact she hadn’t hopped into a bed in three **years**. “We're just…going slow."

"Glacial pace."

"You're having phone sex with a bird so excuse me if I'm gonna ignore your opinions."

He went as white as the sheets Emma was lounging in. "You heard that?”

"I can never unhear it," she groused.

Uninvited Hook took a seat on the end of the bed. Emma pulled her knees to her chest and cautiously drank her coffee. "Regina's got proclivities," Hook said.

"I know all about her adventures in Fairy land."

"I mean you."

"What."

"You're the proclivity Ms. Swan. She, for reasons I cannot fathom, **likes** you, and unless you're a self-loathing mess of insecurities with her because you've got nothing better to do you like her too.”

She sipped her coffee.

"You aren't are you?"

"I'm with her because--"

"You are--"

"I didn't say that--"

"She loves you Swan! Curse-breaking true kind of love."

"I know!”

"You can't just…you don't half ass with that kind of affection."

Emma knew that too. It was why she spent way too much time with Regina, curling into her touch and relaxing to the sound of her voice and just letting the world be. That kind of love--what Regina had for her--it didn't come along often, and she wasn't about to throw it away.

"Do you love her even a little?"

She loved stuff about Regina. Like how she cared for Henry, or protected the whole town or how she could wear a suit. "Yeah," she said softly.

Hook continued to study her like a map.

"Where is she any ways?"

"Left early this morning. Town business or horseback riding or something."

The way he said morning filled Emma with way too much dread. She looked over at the clock on the other bed stand.

11:45.

Mother fuck a duck.

She ran out of the room so fast she forgot her pants.

 

####

She'd been neglecting Gauvin. She **knew** she'd been doing it. And she had good reason. The new old relationship with Emma, Henry's school issues, Neal, murders and alleged brewing fairy wars. It kept Regina too occupied and left the horses in her care feeling neglected.

Waking up that morning with the full length of a half-naked Emma sleeping beside her had spurred Regina into action. She smiled as she showered and ate breakfast alone. And she smiled when she made a cup of coffee and left it by Emma with a warming spell.

She smiled staring down at her too. Regina would never be the type to get "gooey", but having Emma in her bed felt right. Like flyaway pieces of the world finally falling into place. 

It all felt easier to grasp. 

So Regina reached out with both hands and squeezed. 

She spent her entire morning at the stables, cleaning out Gauvin and Hwin's stalls and her own tack and saddle and running the horses through a course she quickly built in the field outside. 

Hwin took the course easily enough, but Gauvin, always more temperamental, refused to jump until after both horses had a trot. She opted to take them into the forest.

The land encompassed by the curse was more vast than most of Storybrooke would assume and a trek deep into the woods would sufficiently exhaust even magical horses with unreal stamina. They went further than she’d been in some time, down the logging road and well past Cecily's darkened windows. Into forest so old as to be primeval.

Old growth. 

Where the only visitors were animals and bugs and birds. Moss crept up the bases of the trees and ferns made a green blanket for the rich-smelling leaf litter on the forest floor.

Both horses stepped carefully, mindful of lichen-covered stones that were slippery with the damp of Maine. 

Regina couldn't say if it was her or the horses. Gauvin was tense between her legs and Hwin's tail flicked nervously, but Regina was the one that had pulled lightly on the rein, bringing the horses to a stop before they could disturb ground untouched by man in thirty years.

Now they'd ridden too far.

Ghosts lingered at the edge of Regina's vision.

She dismounted quietly and moved through the trees with the horses' reins both in hand. The forest around her was like any other stretch of the old growth. But she knew where to look. She could see the outline. A scar in forest formed by spade and shovel. The ferns and flowers grew unnaturally. Lines too straight.

Forming something unmistakeable. 

A grave.

It was easy for Regina to forget her past. Mary Margaret--Snow existed as a constant reminder of what Regina had done and in some sense Emma did as well, but there was a give and take there. A battle.

This grave site marked a slaughter. One of many she'd pushed from her mind and given little thought to in the years since.

She couldn't remember his name, or much of his face. Just the son he'd had and that she'd adored and the feel of his heart.

She looked down at her bare hand. The reins cut across the palm and hid the cracks and crevasses that had once harbored the dead man's blood.

She'd told Graham to hold him and she's reached in to claim control. But the people of the world beyond Storybrooke didn't have magic. They hadn't come from magic, and the heart she'd pulled from his chest had spurted gore all around her office and stained the marble floor.

Regina knelt in the leaves and leaned down close, where the rich mineral tang of dirt filled her nose.

"I'm sorry," she said to a man who couldn't hear.

The ghosts were quiet.

She looked up and caught a glimpse of blond hair as spirits best buried flitted out of sight.

He hadn’t been the last innocent whose blood had stained her hands.

 

####

The ride back to the stables was dampened by dark thoughts, but by the time she saw the fence line parting field from building she'd managed to regain a modicum of control.

She couldn't help the people she'd killed. The random villagers, her father, or that stranger there in the first days of Storybrooke were gone. Dust and bones and memories. All she could do was be better.

She had to be better.

She put her heels to Gauvin’s flank, pushing him forward. The wind caught in her hair and whipped past her ears and took the dark thoughts with it. Cleansing her for just a little while.

Enough so that she was grinning when she stampeded into the stable and pulled short in front of a wide-eyed Henry and Charming.

Charming, perhaps owing to his former life as a farm boy, immediately stepped forward to take Hwin’s reins. “Out for a joy ride?”

“They needed exercise.”

He patted the horse’s side. “And they look like they got it.” Sweat had darkened Hwin’s golden coat.

“Hwin maybe, I’d still like to put Gauvin through the course.” The horse jerked on his bit. “He’s being ornery.”

“Can I watch,” Henry asked, eyes bright with curiosity. He hadn’t been curious about what Regina did in a long time.

She glanced at David, who shot a furtive look back at a stall, the returned her attention to her son. “Did you clean your horse’s stall yet?”

He flushed, “No, but I can do that after.”

“Horses don’t understand later,” David said, his hand falling onto Henry’s shoulder, “only the now.”

“Your grandfather’s right. Unless you want a grumpy horse you need to clean his stall.”

Henry grumbled and reluctantly turned back to the stable. Regina was turning Gauvin back towards the course when David called out. “Thanks, for the back up.”

She raised an eyebrow, pulling Gauvin to a stop, “Henry was giving you trouble?”

“If I were Mary Margaret I’d say he was testing boundaries.” He made overly dramatic finger quotes before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Lot of unusual behavior.”

“Could it be finding out his father is alive?” Gauvin fidgeted, eager to be in motion again.

“That, the issues at school, his moms dating behind his back—“

“We—“

Gauvin shook his head viciously, the reigns nearly pulled from Regina’s hands.

“I’ve still got one eye Regina, and I’m not knee deep in denial like wife.”

She wrapped the reigns around her hand and Gauvin stomped at the dirty angrily.

“Even if Henry doesn’t know, he knows. And he should hear it from the two of you.”

“We’ll…” she tried to smile congenially, “Emma and I will discuss it.”

“Good.” He turned back towards the stalls, shoulders slumped a little.

“David.”

He stopped, turning his head just enough for her to see the patch.

“You’re not Mary Margaret, but you still…you hate me.” She tilted her head, “Don’t you?”

He breathed through his nose. The muscles of his jaw bulged. “I think our family’s complicated.”

 

####

“Sorry I’m late.”

As a rule apologies only worked if you were sorry and you weren’t trying to make a good impression. Emma being late to “having a chat” with Storybrooke’s sole tourist didn’t really qualify. She **wasn’t** sorry and she was sheriff and she was making out with the mayor on the regular so good impressions didn’t matter.

Greg Mendell’s smile was tight, not at all forgiving, and astonishingly sincere looking. “No problem,” he said with more warmth than was on his face.

“How’re you liking Storybrooke?”

“Better since I’m not running into signs with my car.”

He’d been out of the hospital for all of a day and a half, “sightseeing.” Being a naturally suspicious woman Emma didn’t buy it, and kept having to remember the completely boring contents of his phone. 

Some people really could find satisfaction staying at a bed and breakfast in the middle of nowhere, hiking in the woods and eating kitschy diner food.

“Someone said that wasn’t the first time the welcome sign’s had a beating.”

“Someone?”

Greg flushed, “One of the nurses mentioned it. Said you ran into it last year.”

“There was a dog in the road.”

Or a weird mystical spiritual curse related ghost wolf.

He looked down at his iced tea and tilted the glass to catch the sunlight in it, “You hit a sign leaving town and now you’re sheriff.”

Emma looked over her shoulder. Nobody was watching them or listening in, but there were enough furtive glances to tell her people were curious about the sheriff talking with the one person in town who didn’t know about the curse. “Funny how things work out isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I guess. Kind of sad the old sheriff had to die though. What happened to him? Heart attack?”

The question was delivered with all the casualness of a good conversationalist, but there was something just a little…off about it. Like he was fishing. 

She ignored the cold chill that grew in the pit of her stomach at the mention of Graham, and resisted the urge to touch the bit of his shoelace wrapped around her wrist.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

Another tight smile. “I’m a curious guy.”

“Clearly. So maybe tell me what you’re **really** curious about, because I doubt it’s my career track.”

He set his drink down, the bottom of the glass thumping loudly on the table. “You know the highway leading into Storybrooke is haunted?”

Emma smiled wryly, “I’ve heard that rumor.”

“It’s not rumor.”

“Really? Was it Egon or Venkman who told you that?”

He produced a map and spread it across the table. The blunt tip of his finger landed on a red splotch that was either Storybrooke or the road that ran through it.

“It started back in ’83. Story after story. Lights of a town that isn’t there. Shadows in the forest. Folks who just go missing.”

“And you think Storybrooke is related?”

“I think it’s odd that it sits on top of one of the most haunted stretched of highway in America and there isn’t even a pamphlet about it at the bed and breakfast. Small towns loves ghost stories.”

“We got enough stories as is, don’t need to throw a couple of ghosts into the mix.”

There! His eye twitched.

Emma leaned back. “But hey, if you want to sit at the edge of town with your proton pack and wait for Slimer be my guest.”

He nodded, not getting what he’d wanted from Emma he stood up. “You ever find the dog that ran out in front of you?”

“We’re in the middle of the forest Mr. Mendell. Lot of things out in those woods.”

The smile he gave Emma was too grim. Eager and resigned at once. “I know. I plan to find them all.”

 

####

“Were there ghosts in the other world?”

David had been leaning back in his chair and lost his precarious balance, man and chair both falling to one side before he kicked out and righted himself.

“Why do you ask,” he squeaked. His face was bright red.

Emma ignored it and kept staring up at the ceiling. It looked like there were pen marks in it, and she tried to imagine Graham sitting in the same desk and trying to launch his pens up into the ceiling on a slow day when the biggest call was a loose dog on the docks.

It didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

He’d been too nice.

“Greg Mendell thinks the highway is haunted.”

“Probably just magic from Regina’s curse.”

“That’s what **I** thought.” Regina had even admitted as much on their date the other night.

“So why are you worried about ghosts?”

“I’ve dealt with trolls, dragons and a handful of wicked witches. It’s not crazy to ask about ghosts.”

He through his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t say it was.”

“So are there?”

“You’re the one dealing with trolls, dragons and wicked witches, you tell me.”

She dropped her head down onto her desk. 

“They usually take a spell to make them though.” David was trying to be helpful.

Emma just waved him off and continued to stare up close at the fake woodgrain on the top of her desk.

A familiar click of high heels on tile and a nice shade fell on her.

“What happened to her,” Regina asked, her voice the kind of warm comfort Emma didn’t want to think about too much.

“She’s thinking about ghosts.”

“There are ghosts?” There was just a little confusion mixed in with Regina’s amusement.

“No,” David fumbled for words, “just…she’s figuring out they exist.”

“She can transport around town in a puff of pink smoke and ghosts give her pause?”

“Next you’re gonna say we have werewolves,” Emma mumbled, still not sitting up.

“Your mother’s best friend **is** a werewolf.” She could hear Regina’s smirk. “And your mother slept with Frankenstein.”

Emma groaned. Because a petulant groan while her forehead was still pressed to the desk felt like the most honest thing in the world.

“Better than a three way with half a fairy court,” David fired back.

Emma groaned again.

“What are you doing here anyways?”

Emma peeked out but didn’t lift her head. It was the way David asked. Usually he was borderline nasty with Regina, but just then he sounded curious. 

She could only see the gray skirt gracing Regina’s hips from her vantage point. Either she hadn’t been down at the stables all morning or she’d gone home and changed. Regina shifted her weight on her heels and Emma got a brief whiff of soap.

She’d gone home.

“I wanted to try testing the wands the murderer was using. He may be dead to the world, but the magic in those wands won’t be.”

David couldn’t see that Emma was watching them and looked a little helpless. “I guess I can help you.”

She pushed up from the desk. “No. I can do it. Weird magic powers and all that.”

He looked from her to Regina. Studied them both like he was a detective and not a prince turned deputy.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Regina said, eyebrow arched. There was a hint of flirtation there that confused parts of Emma that didn’t need confusing.

 

####

She spun on her heel at the sound of the door closing and purred, “David knows.”

Emma looked back at the door as if she could see through it and then back to Regina. “About?”

She nodded.

She looked back again, “Did he seem…was he okay with it?”

“He didn’t threaten me or tell me to stay away.”

“Better than what I got today.”

Regina arched an eyebrow and waited for elaboration.

But Emma waved her off, “Never mind. While you were thinking about wands all morning you know what I noticed? I was all alone in bed when I woke up.” She was prowling now. Stalking Regina with a playful smile. 

It was like that when they were alone. Always. A door would shut and Emma’s flirtatious smile materialized. Just for her.

Regina leaned against the evidence table, crossing her ankles in coy invitation. “Had to check on the horses. They needed fresh air.”

“Just them?”

She was inching closer. Still smiling like a cat. Only sounding a little…scared.

Regina laughed, “You think I ran?”

“Waking up in bed with someone can be scary.” 

She leaned forward so there was only a sliver of distance between them. Regina could smell the Suave shampoo on Emma’s hair and coffee on her breath. She found herself licking her lips and trying not to look at Emma’s.

“Projecting?”

Emma was looking at her lips too. Her breath coming in hot little puffs. “No,” she swallowed. The cheshire grin returned. “I liked waking up in your bed.” Her eyes back on Regina’s lips. “Liked feeling wanted.” She leaned in, her hands falling onto Regina’s. “Liked the idea of kissing you good morning.”

“It’s afternoon,” she whispered.

“Morning somewhere.”

 

####

Even in the lazy kisses Regina kissed with fervency. Like the devil was bearing down on them. It made her kisses heady and addictive. The sighs were few, and the gasps often.

Everything else sort of disappeared when they were together. There wasn’t issues with Henry, or her heartless mother, or David’s constant presence or murderers or wars. Just pleasure and need and hands that found a way to comfort and cajole.

She dropped kisses on Regina’s exposed neck and thrilled at the feel of her pulse racing beneath her lips. Regina could curse them all to any land she chose and save the day with magic a hundred times but Emma could draw out a throaty moan and make her pulse thrum.

A hand snaked up around her, cool fingers pressing into her neck. Regina pulled Emma closer. Her teeth tugging on her ear. It was hot and perfect and

David was on the other side of the door. She panted against Regina’s neck, burying her face in her hair. Regina stopped biting and pressed still lips to her ear—as if sensing the sudden change in mood.

“David’s out there.”

Regina lay a wet kiss to her ear. “We should get back to work.”

“That easy?”

“I’m evil Emma, not a monster,” she said dramatically.

“Nice to know Evil Queens draw a line.”

“We’ll kill infants, but we refuse to defile young maidens within earshot of their fathers.”

“Magnanimous.”

Regina laughed. It was bright and spontaneous and it yanked away all the walls and costumes Regina wore. Made her breathtaking. Emma had to step away and sheepishly look around the room to stop thinking about her.

“So. Wands.”

“Wands. The twerp had two of them, and I’m hoping he put enough of himself in,” she was motioning with her hands, “that I can find something to pull out.” It was adorable.

“The last time you tried that I had to pay the janitor extra to clean the soot out of here.”

“That’s why you’re here.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “To clean up soot?”

“To keep things from exploding.”

“How?”

Regina grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her into the chair. “Sit.” After rifling through the evidence she produced both wands, laid them on the table, and stared.

“Now what,” Emma whispered.

“Could you be quiet,” she snapped too churlishly.

Emma pantomimed zipping her lips.

Regina returned her focus to the wands. Her hands began to glow a dull purple and she placed them on either side of the wands. “The problem,” she said, never taking her eyes off the wands, “was I tried brute force last time.” She knelt before them. Eyes level with them. “This time I’m going with subtlety.”

Emma fidgeted. Resisted the urge to scratch. Things were bouncing around inside of her. Something cold like jumping in ice water and hot like a hundred degree day. It made her insides itchy.

“Be still. I’m funneling my magic through you and it’s hard enough without you bouncing around like a toddler.”

“That explains the itchiness.”

“Sorry.”

It was **really,** really itchy.

“Anything I can do,” she asked, barely moving her lips. “I’ve gotten pretty good at throwing stuff around with my brain.”

“If I need a boulder tossed I’ll let you know. Right now I just need what you were born with.”

She scratched her leg and tried to think about something else. Briefly she saw herself, thinner, stronger, hair pulled back and broken glasses on her nose and a broken expression on her face. Standing behind Regina. Watching Regina. 

Emma almost stood up out of surprise.

“ **Please** stop moving.”

She blinked and the other her was gone. “It’s like ants. In my pants,” she whined. Better than ghosts that never were.

Regina smiled to herself, amused at her own flirtation. “You could always lose the pants.”

“In the police station. With David in the other room.”

“It might help me concentrate.”

Emma used her “bullshit” glare. 

Regina sighed and tried to concentrate on the wands again. The itchiness reached a crescendo before her locket turned cold. Regina’s hands shivered, the bandaged one looking almost gray in the purple glow of her magic. She seemed to glare at the wands, willing them to reveal whatever secrets they hid.

Emma squinted. 

Regina’s hand didn’t **look** gray. She watched the way the color was pulled from her skin. Gray creeping up her arm and disappearing beneath her sleeve. A chunk of ice was hanging around Emma;s neck. Making her sleepy. Desolate.

“Regina. Stop.”

“I almost—“

She could see it again. Gray clawing at the skin near Regina’s collar. 

She had to move quickly. Forcing stiff muscles into action and sliding across the table to wrap her arms around Regina’s—trapping them and ruining the spell. “Stop,” she said, lips pressed to the other woman’s ear.

A shiver ran through her. Regina struggled. One quick jerk, and then two more feeble ones. “I almost—“

“You were going gray.” And freezing her.

Now the cold was chased away. Quick enough for Emma to know it was conscious on Regina’s part. Like she was trying to soothe and warm her after nearly freezing her to death.

Instead of looking at her hand Regina leaned back against Emma’s frame, the back of her head brushing Emma’s cheek. “Sorry.”

“Is this,” she rubbed her hands up and down Regina’s arms, as if she could feel the chill of Gold’s old curse killing Regina all over again, “is this a usual thing?”

She shook her head.

“But you’re not surprised.”

Regina held her hand up to the cheap florescent light. It looked sickly. “No one just survives a cut from the Dark One’s dagger.”

“I thought True Love’s Kiss solved everything.”

“It’s handy. Sleeping curse.” She bumped her ass against Emma’s hips, “Tree curse. Dark One curses are trickier.”

Emma traced the length of her arm lightly with her fingers. They grazed the bandage. She didn’t peek. She was nervous about what she’d find. “So what? It could just come back?“

Regina spun around, keeping Emma’s hands around her. “You’re worried about me?” Her smile was crooked.

Emma half shrugged, trying to not look too closely at the her. “You’re Henry’s mom.”

It had to be hurt that flickered across her face. “Couldn’t lose the baby sitter,” she said cooly.

Emma ignored that comment. “Why didn’t you say anything? We should talk to Gold and your mom.”

Regina snorted.

“Or Mother Superior. She’s gotta have an idea.”

“She hates me. She wouldn’t help.”

“She’s a nun **and** a fairy, pretty sure she has to help.”

“That’s not how fairies work.”

“It’s how nuns work. They can’t just pick and choose. Talk to her.” She attempted a pout. It was pathetic. “Please?”

“You’re trying to manipulate me.”

She pressed her lips softly to Regina’s. They were cool, but the magic pulsing between them was warm enough. No hint of the curse. “How’s it working?”

“Kissing helps.”

She murmured agreement. Deepening the kiss and walking Regina back onto the evidence table.

Everything else just went away again. Curses and bandages and heavy lockets around their necks were gone. Something quiet and breathtakingly intimate formed between them. Minutes passed. The tick of the clock just white noise.

There were little laughs and sighs. In jokes that were nothing more than nips and fleeting touches.

Cool fingers plucked at the bottom of her shirt before splaying across her belly. A hot mouth pressed to her jaw. “I need you.”

Why had they stopped before?

It was ecstasy to hear that husky whisper. She reached up to take Regina’s face in her hands and kiss her like the world was ending around them. Only barely aware of the hands working at her pants and slipping between denim and skin.

“Why,” Regina gasped, “do you insist on these pants and boots. Do you have any idea how hard it is to—“

She stepped back, hands releasing Regina’s face so her girlfriend could yank at her clothes and pull on her boots. “This why you wear skirts,” she joked.

Regina scowled. Shoved her back into the door. “For that you can just watch.”

“What—“ Her head thumped into the glass as Regina’s hand, no longer hindered by tight denim, found the last piece of Emma to be undone.

Somehow Regina was on her knees and Emma didn’t have pants or boots and she didn’t know when it had happened. Didn’t think she cared. Dark eyes were alight with amusement and fingers were playing clever tune along her thighs.

“You know what I’ve wanted to do?” Regina’s breath was hot. Damp. Electrifying. But her lips were so cool against the inside of Emma’s leg. “What I’ve dreamed of doing?” Her nose nuzzled dark curls of hair. “Ever since you kissed me on the beach?”

She swallowed. Reached for the doorjamb for support. How could she have ever been cold? Heat shot through her like it was carried by a knife. “What?”

Regina didn’t blink. Held Emma’s gaze like that goddamned siren turned down on Third and President always luring cars into accidents. 

“Tasting you.”

Her head struck the glass again so hard she thought she heard it crack.

 

####

Regina had been dreaming of Emma for weeks. She hidden it well. Put a good cap on her desire. She’d learned that long ago living under Leopold’s gaze. 

But now with Emma’s leg pulled over her shoulder and her wet and wanting and inches from her mouth all Regina could think about was fucking her until she was quivering against her lips.

It was crude and maybe nasty and some part of her, distantly, knew it was wrong. They were in the police station and for Emma, for this Emma, it was whole new ground. Ground that didn’t deserve to be upturned this way. 

She remembered the woman who’d taken her to bed exuberant, but shy. The woman who had loved her and not just taken her in to get over someone else.

That Emma wouldn’t want to be coming in an evidence room with her father on the other side of the door.

But Regina couldn’t stop. The ghost of that woman gone hovered over her. Flashes of broken glasses. Naked skin flushed from the heat of the caves. Twisting the features of the willing woman her mouth was pressed to.

They tasted the same.

She choked back some awful emotion and surged up. Capturing Emma’s mouth and driving her fingers into her and fleeing the specter that haunted them. Her mouth was coffee and sweet. Different.

At least different enough.

Emma’s fingers dug into her back. Sharp, sweet pain.

She could feel her around her. Tighter and tighter. She was drawing the orgasm out of her. Slow and perfect. Not lazy. Never lazy. There would never be time for lazy. Not when worlds were always ending and wars were always looming.

She dropped her head into the crook of Emma’s neck. Where only the shadow of blond hair could remind her of another woman.

Her hand, bandaged and clumsy, clutched Emma’s shoulder. 

“Please.”

She thought it was Emma, begging for release. But when she stupidly chanced a glance she just saw ecstasy and passion and something forever shy of love.

“Please.”

Emma flickered before her eyes. Bright blood on her lips and agony carved into her face. 

“Please.”

She was saying it. Begging Emma. The ghost vanished. The woman closed her eyes and pulled Regina closer. Her hips bucked against her hand.

Something hot and good passed through the locket. Chipped at the ice where the ghosts lurked. She had to look away again. Press her forehead into Emma’s shoulder and go just by touch and sound. Distantly relishing the shudder of release.

Emma’s voice was hoarse. “Fuck.”

She kissed her collarbone but said nothing.

“I mean. Damn.” Emma’s head struck the door and she felt her wince. “Shit. David’s still on the other side isn’t he. I—we’ve traumatized him.”

She let her lips travel until she found Emma’s pulse point again.

“But, I mean, it had to happen sometime.” Her fingers brushed the edge of Regina’s skirt. 

And suddenly another Emma was in the room too. Betrayal in bright eyes.

Regina jerked away. “We should…that was…David might be dead.” It was a bad joke. And a desperate one.

Emma frowned.

 

####

Regina could stand up to a mob without flinching, but she ran from a thoroughly satisfied Emma like she was a blood mage with a golem army at her back.

And she did’t just run. She made an excuse about remembering a council meeting (LIE) and she **poofed**. Big cloud of purple smoke away. Leaving Emma feeling real naked, and a little used and all alone to deal with a gray faced David.

She tried joking, “You look like you got stabbed by the Dark One’s dagger.”

“I’d say you were the one getting stabbed,” he muttered, still in shock. Then he flushed. “And I just made a sex joke. About my daughter.”

“If it helps you’re not the only one mortified right now.”

“It doesn’t, because I’m the one obligated to go have a chat with the girlfriend and explain the Dos and Don’t of doing my daughter.”

“Please don’t.”

“Don’t number one. Do it in the police station within hearing range of a father with a shotgun. Do number one. Stick around to be threatened with shotgun instead of apparently poofing away and forcing him to follow.”

“Please don’t follow Regina.”

“She left.”

“Well aware.” 

“After—with you—the glass is **frosted** Emma. Not opaque. I saw hair and shadows and—“

“I am sure we can figure out some kind of forgetting potion.”

But he wasn’t paying attention. Instead blustering, “and she left! You! You’re perfect!”

“ **I** know that.”

“So why did she leave?”

“Council meeting.”

“They meet on Tuesdays.”

“Maybe she had gas. Or more urgent horse care business. How should I know?”

“Are you okay?”

His sudden shift from paternal outrage to paternal concern was enough to give her whiplash. She slumped into her office chair, “I didn’t get to reciprocate. Or process. So no, I’m not doing so great.”

He crossed the room, and then stopped, forcing her to look up at him. He was blushing again. “I was going to hug you and then I—“ He settled for an awkward shoulder pat. “Maybe she’s just being prickly.”

“What happened to shotgun lectures?”

“I care more about you feeling okay than her feeling threatened.”

She reached up and squeezed his hand. Every time he turned out to be a good dad it surprised her.

“You going after her?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t move.

He titled his head. “Soon?”

She nodded. Blushed. “Just as soon as I can feel my legs again.”

She wasn’t going to say the sex outweighed the emotional unavailability, but it’d been a **really** long time since her longs had gone to rubber.

 

####

The mansion would be the first place Emma looked for her to interrogate her on fucking and fleeing the scene like a sixteen year old idiot. Instead Regina chose to teleport to the last place she’d look. 

The nunnery. Blue-frocked fairies flitted around the grounds, all giving her a wide birth like the plague was coming out of her pores.

It was like going back to the Enchanted Forest. All she was missing was more cleavage and bigger hair. She sneered at a young nun who got too close and took perverse pleasure in watching her titter away, hand to her chest.

Blue waited for her at the top of the stairs, hands on hips and severe expression on her face. “I don’t recall you having an invitation onto these grounds Regina.”

“It’s a nunnery, not a palace.”

“You should leave.”

“You’re turning me away? I thought all were welcome into your flock Mother Superior?”

The nun’s features darkened. Her small mouth screwed up even tighter. “Follow me.” She led Regina to her office, a place heavy with old magic, and rounded on her. “Why has the Evil Queen come to me?”

Snark was bitter on Regina’s tongue and she had to brace herself with a smile. “Didn’t you hear, dear? I’m good now.”

“The people who say that are biased.”

“So were the ones calling me evil.”

“You’re trying to say fairies are biased?”

“Every one of you.”

“Then again, why come to me?”

Because Emma had asked it. She pulled her hand out of her pocket. “I need help.”

The fairy snorted.

“Let’s not beat around any bushes shall we? If you’re a fairy worth your salt you know I’ve been cursed by the Dark One’s dagger.” She was surprised other’s sensitive to magic hadn’t mentioned it. Besides EMma it was just Maleficent, who had seen it and stared before pretending to ignore it. “I need to know how to break it.”

“True Love’s Kiss breaks any curse.”

She held her hand up quickly for inspect then jammed it back into her coat pocket. “Not this one. Ever since Cora used her magic to save him it’s been spreading. Like breaking Gold’s link to it…kickstarted something.”

“Yes.”

She squinted, “Yes it did, or yes you know.”

“There always has to be balance in our world. And Fate…Fate will seek it out no matter what. There have to be fairies doing the will of Good. And there has to be monsters doing the will of Evil.”

“I studied theology once upon a time. I know all about the need of balance in our land. This isn’t our land.”

“But it is. Your curse carved us out of it and placed us here. Which means certain truths are immutable. Chief among them? There must always be a Dark One. Fate’s made her choice. If you didn’t want the job you should have stayed in the Enchanted Forest.”

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting to write this upcoming sequence for at least a year. EXCITED.

Emma was waiting for her outside. Her long legs sticking out, feet firmly planted on the pavement and arms crossed over her chest. The same nuns who’d watched Regina suspiciously were a little more furtive with their spying on Emma, but the stiff set of Emma’s shoulders and the thin line of her mouth suggested she was well aware of the eyes on her.

She pushed off the car with her hips when she saw Regina. Wordlessly opened the passenger door to let her in. 

Now discussion. No argument. Just mute agreement that things could, and should, be left unsaid.

When they were back on the road she let out a long breath. “Thanks for talking to her.”

“It made sense.”

“Did she help?” 

She looked down at her fingers. They were gray like dye from a new pair of black jeans had rubbed off on them. “No.”

“Can she?”

“No.”

Emma’s hand twisted on the steering wheel.

“How’d you know where to find me?”

She checked the rearview mirror before changing lanes. “I would like to say it’s because it’s what I do, but really I just used the locket.”

“That’s why I made it.”

The weight of what they weren’t talking about started to weigh heavy between them. Thick as magic fog.

“Aren’t you going to ask why I left?”

“If you’d wanted to tell me you wouldn’t have left,” she took a right, putting them on the road out of town.

“And now you’re kidnapping me?”

“Taking you to dinner.”

“Out of town.”

Emma’s eyes darted to Regina’s hand. “Less eyes on us. And no over protective men lurking with shotguns.”

Regina groaned, “David?”

“And Hook. But mainly David.” She glanced at her knowingly, “He heard everything.”

“Why do you think I left?”

It was a quick quip meant to whitewash over the real reason.

A frown tugged at the corners of Emma’s lips. She turned back to the road. “Maybe next time don’t leave me holding the bag.”

She didn’t need the locket to get that she’d hurt Emma by fleeing the scene, but she didn’t think the details of why she’d fled would make anything better.

All she could do was pry one of Emma’s hands off the wheel and bring it to her lips.

 

####

Dinner was McDonalds.

Regina asked if it was punishment for leaving so abruptly earlier. Emma insisted it wasn’t—even if it sort of was. They were both acting like the WASPs neither of them were and pretending something really weird hadn’t happened when Regina had gone down on her.

And McDonalds helped. It was bland comfort food as easy as they were supposed to be. Coke, a quarter pounder and a large fry later and Emma was feeling a lot less wounded about what had happened. Particularly as Regina was happily humming to herself as she dipped chicken nuggets into sauce.

“You know what’s pretty adorable,” Emma asked.

Regina raised an eyebrow and kept eating.

“You humming over chicken nuggets.”

Regina flushed. “They’re oddly comforting.”

She’d embarrassed Regina, and somehow that just made the whole scene more endearing. It wasn’t like she was breaking the facade Regina wore most of the time. More like she was getting to peak at the woman underneath.

Like when she’d found her about to house an entire pan of lasagna by herself.

“Does the whole magic burning calories thing work out here?”

“I hope so. I don’t think my ass needs what twenty chicken McNuggets will do to it.”

“I don’t think twenty will hurt it. It’s a cute ass.”

Regina seemed game for flirting and watched her out of the corner of her eye, “You look at it often?”

“I mean, I can’t say I’ve had the best view of it yet, what with you not even taking off your skirt this afternoon, but I like what I’ve seen.”

She sighed and set her food down on the dashboard. “You’re not going to let that go are you?”

“I **am** letting it go. In spurts, followed by snide comments about it, and then more spurts.”

She looked down her nose at her—like she did when she was lecturing Henry. “That’s not letting it go, Emma.”

“If I bailed on you after going down on you in a very spontaneous, but very welcome moment would you just let it go?”

The lights in the McDonalds parking light were garish and too cool. They cast strong shadows on Regina’s face and hid her eyes. But she could still see Regina studying her. “No. I wouldn’t. However instead of McDonalds and conversation in your car I probably would have lured you somewhere comfortable. Ideally furnished with a bed.”

Emma sighed and pushed her seat back. “This is not a seduction attempt.”

“Good.”

“I don’t seduce people in fast food parking lots. That’s how I got my niece.”

“You’re an only child.”

“Foster sister.”

“Thought you were a loner with no family whatsoever.”

“Well, we don’t talk **now** , but a little more than ten years ago we were best friends.”

“And she got knocked up in a McDonalds parking lot?”

“Jack in the Box.”

“Seriously.”

Emma nodded and looked away smiling at an old joke, “We’re just glad the guy’s name wasn’t Jack.”

Regina groaned.

“But yeah, it was, you know, after everything with Neal.” And Henry. 

Regina digested it all. Probably better than either of them would digest the fast food. “And you don’t talk to her anymore?”

“She wasn’t…she wasn’t crazy about how I handled Henry.” She wadded the wrapper for her hamburger up just to give her hands something to do, “and then when I moved in with her and not-Jack to help with the baby it wasn’t…”

Regina had turned to fully face her, her back pressed to the door. There was a lot of shame at the back of her mind when she thought about those times. She hadn’t been a very good “sister.”

“I say we were foster sisters, but it was very Flowers in the Attic you know? We were stupid hormonal teenagers, and the both of us were trying to figure out our..who we were.”

The sort of confession didn’t phase Regina. “You were lovers.”

She winced at the name. It was too adult—too romantic—for what they’d been. Sweaty fumblings and hushed professions weren’t exactly the things romance novels were supposed to be made of.

“It was just easier to call ourselves foster sisters you know? People took us a little more seriously than if we’d called ourselves “friends who grew up in the home together and played doctor to figure our sexuality out.”

“Certainly less of a mouthful.” She tilted her head. “Does she know about Henry? Now I mean. That you have a relationship with him?”

“I think my life is just complicated enough that it might be difficult to explain.”

“What? T

hat you live with your mother and father who are the same age as you and you’re dating a woman who once functioned as your mother’s stepmother and you have to share your son with her and his long lost father who happens to be the son of a man in a very complicated relationship with a librarian and a woman who would ‘technically’ be your step-great grandmother?”

“Yeah. That.”

The springs in Regina’s seat creaked as she leaned forward and over the center console to kiss Emma gently.

“What was that for,” she whispered against Regina’s lips.

“You should take me home,” she said softly. Her nose nuzzled Emma’s gently before she kissed her again. “Let me make up for what happened this afternoon.”

“Talking about exes really does it for you huh?”

Regina laughed and kissed her again before flopping back into her seat carelessly. Her hair was mussed from the movement and made her look decidedly less like the Regina Emma was accustomed to. 

 

####

They were a block from the mansion when Emma got a call from Mulan. “What happened,” she asked in confusion. She listened to Mulan’s explanation while shooting worried glances at Regina.

Then she sighed and at the stop sign made a U-turn to point the car back towards the forest.

“Something wrong,” Regina asked.

“Apparently the forest is in an uproar and every single damn princess in town was freaking out about it. Mulan and Aurora want me to come see and it sounds magic enough that—“

“You’d like me there.”

“That okay?”

As they were getting further and further from her house Regina didn’t really have a say in the matter. “It’s fine. But I feel like I have to say that the next date we go on I get to choose the itinerary.”

“You haven’t liked my dates?”

“Lobster rolls and the beach were great. McDonalds and crime scenes are a little less my speed.”

“I’ll be sure to mix it up next time. Wendy’s and the morgue.”

“I’d prefer Burger King and the hospital.”

“If we’re eating at Burger King the hospital’s a given.”

They were guided to the crime scene by the flashing lights of Mulan’s cruiser. Neither she or Aurora commented when Regina got out of the car. They were too busy staring at what had the forest in a riot.

Emma winced at the cacophony coming from the tree tops. “The birds gonna shut up anytime soon.”

“I’m wearing earplugs,” Aurora shouted. “It helps!” 

She tossed a pair to Emma and then began explaining the scene.

Which…it wasn’t a traditional crime scene. At least not like something out of Law & Order. Instead it was a stretch of forest **flattened**. Trees were shattered and the remains of animals crushed into the forest floor.

“Did a giant fall over,” Emma joked, her voice too loud because of the ear plugs.

“Storybrooke doesn’t have giants.” Mulan’s tone was dry. “And they usually don’t crush small woodland creatures with their ass.”

Aurora shouted, “Right?! This is clearly something else.”

“What,” Emma shouted back.

“This is clearly something el—“

“I mean what is it!”

“Oh! I don’t know!”

Regina stepped close to Mulan, “Are we going to keep letting them do this?”

Mulan shrugged.

She could be no help sometime—Regina clapped and the clamor of birds went silent.

Emma was the first to take her ear plugs out. “You didn’t just murder half the forest did you?”

“Cone of silence,” she deadpanned. “If I had to listen to that Who’s On First routine any longer I was going to murder something.”

Emma’s eyes flickered to Regina’s bandaged hand and then up to her eyes for silent confirmation she was okay. It was a sweet gesture.

Regina shoved her hand into her coat pocket. “So what sat on the woodland creatures?”

“We don’t know. That’s why Emma, and you, are here.”

“All that noise and the birds couldn’t tell you?”

Emma shook her head, “They just keep shouting ape.”

“Over and over again,” Aurora complained. 

“So…” she wanted to be very clear on this, “a monkey?”

“Ape,” Mulan corrected her. 

Emma grinned. “Yeah Regina.” She was egging her on with her teasing tone, “There’s a big difference. One has a tail. The other apparently squishes deer for sport.” 

“If an ape is big enough to do all of this shouldn’t it still be around?” That was Mulan, always asking the important questions.

On queue all four of them went silent, listening for some distant lumbering giant ape monster. But in the dome of magic Regina had made there was nothing. An eerie absence of sound she was regretting having made.

“Could we track it,” Aurora stage whispered.

Emma carefully picked her way through the “crime scene” and peered around the edges, shining her high-powered flashlight out into the darkness. “Doesn’t look like our ape left much of a trail. Something this big there should be broken branches or fur. We should have **some** idea of where it went.”

Aurora flashed her light into the wilderness. “There’s nothing.”

“Which means magic,” Regina announced. Saying what none of them wanted to hear.

“Traceable magic,” Mulan asked hopefully.

She cracked her knuckles. “We can certainly find out.” 

But before she could cast another spell Emma caught her arm. “You sure that’s a good idea?” She was watching Regina’s hand again. Like it would suddenly go gray and wrap around her throat.

“I’m not trying to break through enchantments on wands. Just tracing a giant monkey.” She plucked her hand off her arm. “I think I’ll be fine.”

Emma’s voice was low enough that Mulan and Aurora couldn’t hear her from a few feet away. “You nearly went gray this afternoon, so excuse me for being worried.”

“I’m not going to stop using magic just because an old curse is acting up.”

Emma frowned. “Old?”

“And this is different,” she said in a hurry. “It’s not nearly the same as what I attempted this afternoon.”

“But what do you mean by old?”

“We’ll talk about it later.” 

Emma’s jaw was set, and she had a cranky look on her face that was identical to the one Charming usually wore around Regina. “Long talk. Until dawn kind of talk.”

She turned away from her. “Romantic,” she teased over her shoulder. Then she cast her hands out before her and wove a spell.

 

####

The easy domesticity wasn’t lost on Emma. Regina cast her spell, declared the suspect poofed away, they all agreed to keep an eye out for giant apes, and then she and Regina returned to the mansion.

Up the stairs and into an argument that had been brewing since Regina said the word “old.” But they had it while getting ready for bed, and, again, it wasn’t lost on Emma.

“So your hand is…cursed? Like, cut by the Dark One’s dagger kind of cursed,” she asked. She was sitting on Regina’s chaise lounge and prying her boots off her feet.

Regina was in the bathroom taking off her earrings and removing her makeup. Emma could just see a sliver of the back of her. Mainly just the butt she’d already made mention of and the curve of one calf.

“No. More ‘I am supposed to become the Dark One’ cursed.”

She dropped her boot. “That might be worse.”

“One’s fatal and the other gives me immense power.”

“And turns you evil!”

Regina stepped into the doorway. “I’ve been evil before.”

“But that was—“

Regina waited, eyebrow raised.

She dropped her boots on to the floor. “This time magic is making you evil.”

“Only if I let it.” 

Regina disappeared back into the bathroom and Emma had to get up to follow her. “That’s not how this is supposed to work.” She hung back in the doorway, watching Regina rub lotion onto her neck. 

Regina laughed, “When did you become the magic expert?”

“Okay, so what did the expert say? You can’t tell me the Mother Superior is okay with you taking Gold’s place.”

Regina paused in her nightly ministrations. She held Emma’s gaze in the mirror. “The Dark One’s a necessity Emma. It’s how our world keeps balance.”

“She **wants** you to be the Dark One?”

“Someone has to.”

She stepped into the bathroom. “Not you.”

“Better the devil you—“

Stepped closer. “Not you Regina.”

They stared at one another in the mirror. Neither moving. Finally Regina turned around. “How do you propose we stop it?” She spoke softly but her voice was still drenched in pride.

“We’ll find a way.”

Regina’s hand fell lightly on Emma’s hip. “A fairy murderer. A war. That giant ape. Now a curse? You’re collecting mysteries like Henry collects comic books.”

“Some of them I plan to solve sooner than later.”

They were just near enough in height that without shoes Regina didn’t have to look up at her. She chewed on her lip. “You really think you can end the Dark One?”

And they were standing so close that Emma felt silly talking any louder than a whisper. “Isn’t that what saviors are for?” She leaned in for a kiss but Regina ducked smoothly under her and darted into the other room.

“Seriously,” she called after her.

“I had a long day and need sleep,” Regina called back.

“What happened to making up for this afternoon?”

Regina was pulling pillows off the bed and stopped. “We’re to the bargaining for sex part of our relationship already?”

“That’s not—“

Regina lobbed the pillow at Emma’s head and she snatched it out of the air.

They unmade the bed together, Emma in nothing but her underwear and a borrowed t-shirt and Regina in full silk pajamas. When they climbed in and turned off the lights Emma stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling and listened to the settling of an unfamiliar house.

“I feel underdressed,” she whispered into the darkness.

Regina sighed.

There was the sound of fabric brushing against fabric and then a bare leg ran down the length of Emma’s bare leg. “Better,” Regina whispered loudly.

Emma laughed and turned to face her. “Why did no one ever tell me your adorable when you want to be?”

Even in the darkness she could see Regina blanche—like she’d struck some unexpected nerve. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face. “I try to keep my cute factor under wraps. More powerful than a fireball.”

Emma pulled her close and kissed her forehead—her heart beating quickly at the intimacy of it— “I’m positively ash.”

 

####

He called her adorable. When she’d leapt into the hay and emerged victorious, barncat clutched to her chest. Daniel had plucked a strand of straw out of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers and called her adorable.

But that had been when she had been young and stupid.

She stayed up too late running the word over and over again in her head. Like it was an object to hold in her hand and examine.

“Adorable.”

Emma, soundly asleep, reached across the bed and pressed her hand to Regina’s chest. “Shh,” she cooed—eyes closed.

Regina presumed her talent for sleeping came from being a bounty hunter. Something about catching sleep when one could. She envied Emma’s talent and had to watch her a while to stew in her envy.

And affection.

“Adorable.” 

That wasn’t a word reserved for Evil Queens or madam mayors or a Thief. “Adorable” was a domestic word.

She and Emma were anything but.

“Go to sleep,” Emma mumbled.

Regina’s eyes drifted close.

When she opened them again Emma was sitting on her knees on the bed, a speck of tooth paste at the corner of her toothy grin. Early morning sunlight was caught in the gold of her hair and even after a relatively late night and not an ounce of makeup there were no bags under Emma’s eyes.

“Morning,” she said.

Regina sat up on her elbows and peaked at the clock behind Emma. “Morning.”

“I let you sleep.”

“It’s seven. I don’t get up before ten unless Henry has school or I have a meeting.”

“I’ve been up since six.”

“Just staring?”

“I brushed my teeth **and** read the ancient Cosmo on your chaise lounge.” 

She straddled Regina like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“I’m a winter.”

With legs for days. 

Regina rested her hands on the smooth bare skin of Emma’s thighs. “You don’t feel too cold.”

That earned a groan and a roll of the eyes. But didn’t stop Emma from leaning down and kissing Regina like they were normal.

“Remember what I said yesterday,” she whispered against her lips.

“You talked a lot Emma.”

Her teeth tugged on Regina’s lower lip. “I said I wanted to wake up next to you.”

Regina let her thumbs dance at the edge of dark black underwear. But Emma caught one wrist. 

“I’m pretty big on the whole fairness thing.” She ground her hips into Regina. “Something about growing up in group homes has me big on give and take.”

“I don’t mind giving.”

“I know you don’t. For some evil type-A bitch you’re very magnanimous.” She’d caught her feet on the covers and reached down to pull them over her and Regina, creating a pleasant cocoon of warmth. “But I’m the Savior remember?” She slid down Regina’s body. Her movements excruciatingly slow. Her touch feather light and maddening. “I got to give too.”

Her mouth, open and hot, pressed into Regina through her underwear and her hips bucked as an embarrassing groan escaped her mouth.

Emma looked up. Grinned. “Is that why you didn’t want me reciprocating at the police station?”

Regina tried to use her words. Emma’s finger playfully ran down her lips and she failed.

“Very vocal,” Emma observed with too much pride.

Regina wasn’t always vocal. She’d just missed sex.

A lot.

More than she could have guessed.

Emma pulled Regina’s underwear off and settled back between her legs. “Just try not to wake the rest of the house.”

Her mouth was on her again and Regina was seeing stars.

She wasn’t thinking about another Emma, or the last person to call her adorable, or even the sea of faces that had knelt between her thighs over the years.

She was just thinking about **this** Emma and her wicked tongue and the way she had a sense of humor. Emma teased. Joked with nothing but her mouth and fingers. 

Regina laughed.

“Something funny,” a muffled voice asked—amusement coloring her voice.

Everything was funny. Funny sat on one side of a razor’s edge. Tragedy sat on the other. All Regina had to do was tilt her head and see the chances she’d lost with another Emma. The one that had loved her.

“She’ll never love you,” a dead woman reminded her. Chilled breath in her ear.

She covered her eyes with her bandaged hand and tried to sort out what was bubbling out of her. Humor or hysteria. She couldn’t be sure.

“Hey.”

Emma had stopped. Her chin was resting lightly on Regina’s belly and her eyes were dark and curious. 

“You want to tell me what’s up?”

She went back to covering her face with her hand and shook her head.

“Because, on my end, it feels like you’re having a panic attack.”

She had no idea how to respond to that. People snorted fairy dust in the Enchanted Forest when they had panic attacks. 

“I—“

The door was kicked open with such dramatic flare that Killian **had** to have known what he would find on the other side.

And the bird did too, because the little bastard was wolf whistling before the door even finished swinging open.

Killian, glad to have the little eye full he was getting, grinned. “Well, if this isn’t a sight for sore eyes and romantic foo—“ He only barely dodged the fireball that smacked harmlessly against the glass-covered portrait behind him. “Easy love.”

Emma through the covers over her head.

“Oh like I didn’t already see plenty.”

Regina drew another ball of fire into her fist and Killian held up hook and hand in surrender. “At least fifty percent of me coming up here was to tell you Mulan was downstairs.”

“Out.”

“Sinbad made me do it.”

“Now.”

Sinbad, being a lecherous pervert, tried to fly in for a closer look, but Killian caught him by his squat little bird body and tugged him back. 

“We’ll be downstairs. Join us when you’re decent.”

When he was gone Emma flipped the covers back. Her chin was still resting lightly on Regina’s stomach. “Bright side is you don’t seem to be having a panic attack any more.”

She glared.

“Less bright side is you’ve replaced it with the kind of anger that’s gonna give me frost bite.” She put her weight on one elbow and pulled painfully at her locket with her other hand. “At least let me put on a bra first.”

“Sorry.”

She stopped fussing with the locket to eye Regina furtively, “Hook’s really getting to you isn’t he?”

“He’s being an ass.”

“He’s **been** an ass. That’s just Hook.”

It would have been easier if that were true. 

 

####

They gathered around the kitchen aisle. Emma and Regina and Hook and Mulan. (Aurora was apparently “busy.”) Maleficent stood to the side sucking down Coke with a straw to avoid ruining perfectly applied lipstick.

The noise rankled Emma.

And Mulan. She glared, “Why is she here?”

“Because I **had** to see this,” Maleficent said vampishly.

“And she’s bound to be more useful than her sisters,” Regina added.

“Honey, Killian’s hook in bed is more useful that those ladies.”

Emma closed her eyes, but that didn’t do anything to help with the grotesque visual.

“How would you know,” Regina dared.

“None of us need to know,” Mulan said quietly.

Emma nodded, “I’m with her.” She picked her latte up and sipped it gratefully. Regina had made it with a practiced hand. One for her, one for Mulan and one for herself. Hook had refused her mute offer and was swilling regular coffee that smelled more like Irish creme.

"Right," Hook said loudly, “back to the matters at hand." He grinned at his bad pun, but it worked at refocusing the conversation.

Regina's hand.

She had it laying flat on the counter. Dark skin against pale granite. Easy to stare at. To judge. 

It **looked** normal. The discoloration she'd seen creep into it wasn't there the night before. But looking at it also felt…wrong. There was something unsettling about that hand.

"Nasty curse," Maleficent observed.

"Not helpful," Mulan shot back. "How long do you have?"

Regina shrugged. "Days. Years? It hasn't been consistent so far. Just always…there."

Their eyes all returned to the hand. Like it'd spring up and murder them.

Hook finished his coffee in a gulp. "Right, I say we chop it off."

Maleficent laughed.

Mulan actually nodded and came around like she was going to hold Regina down as Hook tried to pull a sword from the scabbard.

"What! Woah. No," Emma shouted, stepping between Mulan and Regina. "We are not just going to chop off her hand--and where did you get a sword!"

Hook gave it a practiced swish while the rest of them looked at Emma like **she** was the crazy one.

"Emma…" Regina said carefully.

She rounded on her girlfriend, eyes wide at the hesitation she heard in her voice. Regina looked like--like she **agreed**. "You want them to chop off your hand?"

"Right now the curse is localized to the hand and removal--"

"Would mean taking your **hand**. And for what? How do we know the curse won't hop into the rest of you? Or that it hasn't already?"

"Point to the sheriff," Maleficent opined.

"Thank you."

"I think it's worth a shot," Hook declared--his voice a little slurred. "Plenty of us get along just fine without a hand."

"Because you're doing so well," Mulan snapped.

"You don't see me wandering puppy-like after princesses do you?"

"I am **not** a puppy."

"Oh I've seen the eyes, love. Aurora tells you to sit and you'd ask how long."

Emma sighed, "That's not how puppies work."

"Like you'd know. The only one more whipped than the two of you is that one." He jerked his thumb in Regina's direction.

Maleficent laughed again. A big brassy "hah."

Then the whole house shook.

A rush of bitter cold went through Emma and she looked to Regina's whose eyes were wide in surprise.

"What--"

"Was that?"

Maleficent set down her coke and look towards the window. "Nothing good."

"You felt it too,” Emma asked.

"Anyone with an ounce of magic felt that," Regina said.

"Felt what," Hook asked.

Mulan was glowering, her hand fidgeting on the pistol at her hip. "Magic."

“Am I the only that didn’t feel it,” he asked incredulously.

"No. I inferred. Those three felt it."

"Same as last night," Maleficent noted.

"Wait. Last night?"

Regina's lips were pursed. "We were outside of town so we missed it, but this," she held her bandaged hand up. Magic skittered across it. Aftershocks of whatever had just poured through them all. "This is a lot of magic. The kind that could transport something very large."

Shit.

It dawned on Mulan too. "And hairy."

Shit shit shit.

The front door banged open and Aurora rushed in, "Everyone. You have to--"

"Where the hell did you come from?" Hook was more surprised by Aurora than the idea of whatever had just happened.

"I was outside," she snapped.

"What? Just sitting in the car? You couldn't even bother to come in?"

"I wasn't going to sit in a room pretending that you and her," she pointed at Maleficent without looking at her, "weren't here."

"You don't have to pretend little one." Maleficent managed to sound sweet and creepy as hell in one go.

"I can't believe you'd rather avoid me than apologize."

"Apologize!" Aurora was furious at the idea.

A noise filtered through the open door. A distant…roar.

But Aurora was still focused on Hook. "You're the one that threw me into a pit with the zombie form of my arch nemesis!"

"So, okay, we're just gonna keep doing this," Emma asked.

"He tossed me too," Regina reminded Aurora.

"Yup. Just gonna keep doing this. That's cool. Not like there isn't a giant--"

Another roar. Closer. Glass rattled in its frame.

"Like you can talk," Mulan mumbled, “you're housing the asshole."

"Because you left him on my doorstep!"

"You didn't have to keep him! But you'd rather worry about dating **Emma** than Killian's very clear problem with alcohol."

"I do not have a problem!"

Emma wasn't going to agree with that one. The man was sweating irish creme.

"The familiar discord is really adorable," Maleficent had pulled another soda from the fridge and opened it with a crack and hiss, "but are any of you 'heroes' gonna address the giant monkey outside?"

"It's an ape actually." Why was Aurora taking time to be snotty when--

The next roar was definitely closer. Close enough that they all migrated outside and stared at the tree line.

Shit.

Big. Giant.

Emma closed her eyes because staring at it any longer wasn’t going to help.

The thing was huge. Hairy. **Alive**. The trees and homes just coming up to its elbows.

And a peek at the others showed that Emma was the only one even **remotely** fazed by goddamn ape lumbering down the street.

Regina stood closest to Emma. She crossed her arms as she craned her neck to stare up at the beast. "This is a terrible way to start the morning."

Yeah. As mornings went this one had gone from one of the best to definitely, categorically, the worst.

King Kong roared.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY.

Emma was so busy staring up at the giant ape that she missed the moment when Regina raised her hands and she and the other “Four Thieves” disappeared in a whoosh of purple smoke.

“What—“

“They went poof,” Maleficent noted.

In the distance four shapes appeared over the giant ape. All four hung in the air a second too long to be natural. Than three plummeted to the ground and the fourth, still hovering, launched an enormous fireball at the ape’s eyes.

Emma winced when the ape backhanded the fourth figure into a copse of trees. “She’s been through worse right?”

Maleficent’s eyes followed Regina as she shot out of the trees like a missile and lobbed another fireball. “She’s the all powerful evil queen. If she can’t stand a backhand from a giant monkey she should retire.”

“King Kong.”

“Who?”

“That’s King Kong.”

“You’re saying that like I should care.”

There was the unmistakable sound of gunfire. A distant pop pop pop. Someone had found a gun and was trying to shoot ape. Kong kicked and Emma saw another figure sail into the air, black leather coat flapping in the breeze. Just before he smashed into the roof of a house he disappeared in a puff of purple smoke and reappeared in the same copse of trees Regina had just shot out of.

“He’s this famous monster. Skull Island? Like Beauty and the Beast only big.”

“The Skull Island vaguely rings a bell. I want to say that was a popular tourist destination in the Land of the Black and White.”

“Okay, now I’m confused.”

“Where your doctor comes from.”

“That’s really the name they went with?”

“It’s the name the rest of us went with. Miserable place. Just thunder and lightening all the time—“

Kong punted Hook back up into the air, his arc of descent sending him careening towards Emma and Maleficent. At the last minute he jerk to a stop ten feet above them.

“Ladies,” he said with a respectable amount of swagger.

Then suddenly he was flung back towards the fight.

“You’re doing,” Maleficent asked.

“Thought that was you.”

“Must have been Regina. Her skills in a fight have really improved. Used to all she could do was threaten unicorns.”

The glass in the windows behind them rattled as a booming explosion went off around King Kong’s feet. 

The Dark One’s powers probably helped too.

Emma shook her head. “Okay, I have to go actually deal with this. Are you going to contribute to society or—“

“I’m fine thanks.”

As much as Emma wanted to drag Maleficent’s skinny ass along and force her into saving the town she was now living in she had more important things on her plate. Like stopping a giant ape sent by who knew who to destroy the town.

And hopefully keep the town’s one special visitor from seeing the four story tall monkey currently shaking Mulan and Aurora like rag dolls. 

She stopped at her car to stare—really she was just unable to look away. It was like looking at the cover of an old comic book. Regina flying around throwing fireballs and Mulan and Aurora each grasped in a hairy paw with Hook climbing up the monsters back with a torch clutched in his teeth.

She had to fight the urge to at least pull out her phone and grab a picture because she was pretty positive she was **never** going to see something as bizarre (and cool) ever again.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, and eyes still on the tableau in front of her she pulled it out and answered. “Uh huh.”

“You’re seeing this right?” It was David, the sound of his truck’s engine in the background.

She nodded even though he couldn’t see that. “Uh huh.”

“I’m headed to Granny’s. Hopefully I can grab our guest and keep him from seeing anything Facebook worthy.”

“That—“ King Kong lobbed Aurora at Regina and they both crashed onto the top of a building in a tumble of arms, legs and skirts. Even from a distance she distinctly saw red lace panties. She tilted her head and tried to work out who was wearing them. “That’s a good idea.”

“Are you…going to help fight the monster?”

“They seem to be doing a good—“ Hook stabbed Kong with his torch, setting a tuft of fur on fire. Kong roared—dropping Mulan like a stone. “I should probably help.”

Kong stumbled back and then dashed away.

“Shit.”

She could hear David’s tires squealing over the phone. “What?”

“The giant ape is running?”

“Good. I mean as long as it’s not towards hospitals, churches or schools right?”

She tried to stay quiet but there was still a hiss accompanying her wince. The four story tall ape was definitely headed towards one of the three.

David sighed, “Which one?”

“The school.”

 

####

Until she’d met the three idiots the closest to combat she’d ever come was lobbing a few fireballs while atop a horse. Regina didn’t **do** action. She was a shock and awe sort of woman and not especially good at dodges and feints and all the strenuous activity that came with a fight.

And battling King Kong was a fight. 

An exhausting and grueling one that had her calling on magic she’d just told Emma she’d try not to use.

Killian had managed to light a little of the ape on fire but he was otherwise flame retardant—casting off her fireballs like they were made of feathers.

The other habits she had for defeating giant beasts involved being a distraction while Mulan did her genius military strategist thing, but that required Aurora and Killian to listen to Mulan and they were both too busy pretending they didn’t need—or even **know** —one another to listen to anything Mulan might have said.

Which left Regina doing the brunt of the work and trying to ignore the chill climbing up her arm.

She forged another fireball in her hand and worried at the delicious contrast between the heat of the flame and the spreading chill of her magic. Kong grabbed Killian off his back and flung him at Regina. She was able to teleport Killian before he struck her, but it left her open just long enough for the beast’s meaty fist to smash into her.

She went cartwheeling through the air, losing all sense of space and direction.

Glass shattered.

Linoleum floor rushed up to meet her and she twisted at the last second, heels sliding on the floor and hands, still aflame, gouging scorch marks into the tile. The acrid smell of burning plastic hit her nose just seconds before the collective gasps of a classroom full of children reached her ears.

She reluctantly turned her head already knowing who she’d find staring at her with a mixture of awe and horror. Henry was half out of his chair and looking manically gleeful at the sight of his mother flying though the window. The rest of his classmates were merely stunned into silence.

“Regina?” 

She whipped around to find Mary Margaret pressed up against the chalkboard, hand on a meter stick and half ready to use it. 

Regina stood up. Her joints creaked. “We have a problem.”

“Clearly—what—”

She nodded towards the broken window. “Invading ape.”

Mary Margaret, to her credit, didn’t do a double take. Just glanced and nodded. “We should get the children to the gym. It’s rated to be a shelter.”

By a curse Regina had cast thirty years before. She bit her tongue. 

“We want to help,” a child shouted. One that suspiciously sounded like her own son. She refused to turn around to confirm her suspicion and she and Mary Margaret were at least of the same mind when they shouted “no” back in chorus. 

While an older student teacher’s aid guided the children to safety Regina turned her attentions back to the window and tried not to look at Henry as he was ushered past.

“Mom,” he called out, and there was just enough wonder and concern in his voice—for **her** —that she turned. He was wide eyed and worried. 

About her.

“Stay with your class.” She moved towards the window and didn’t look back. She couldn’t.

“A little harsh don’t you think.” Mary Margaret had chosen **not** to follow her class.

“I know my son. If I looked him in the eye he’d want to stay and I wouldn’t be able to say no and then I’d spend half my time worrying about him getting hurt.”

Outside Aurora was dancing away from Kong while Killian and Mulan dithered about. Mary Margaret frowned.

“Don’t remember you bringing that guy over with the curse.”

“I didn’t.”

“So how’d he get here?”

"With a portal jumper."

The wind through the broken window caught in Mary Margaret’s short hair and she brushed her bangs away. “Any idea **which** portal jumper?”

She glanced at the empty desk where Grace usually sat. Jefferson wouldn't have done this--not if it meant risking his daughter. He was too content to inflict the giant joke outside on the town.

But he was also the only portal jumper she knew that was still alive in Storybrooke. Any of the others…it wouldn’t be easy to break through to their world. Certainly not with a giant ape in tow. And the amount of magic they’d used…she glanced down at her hands. One grey against the bandage. She half expected more magic to skitter across her skin.

“None alive and living in Storybrooke.”

“It could be someone from out—“

“We should worry about who’s smuggling the giant ape **after** the giant ape is subdued.”

She started to fly back into the fight but Mary Margaret reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her down like the albatross she just loved to be. “It requires a lot of magic to bring something like that here right?”

Regina set her jaw, but nodded.

“If they came too all they’d have to do is wait. That thing tires us out and they can kill every one of us..”

She snatched her hand away and appraised the other woman. “That’s pretty dark for you Mary Margaret.”

Mary Margaret sniffed, “It’s what I’d do. And if you’re being honest it’s what you’d do too.”

“Well,” she smiled too sweetly, “let’s hope the only heartless monsters in this town are in this room.”

 

####

Okay. Emma took stock of things. The fight was getting messy and the Four Thieves were bumbling around creating more than half of it. Mary Margaret **and** Henry had both texted they were safe and David had hidden away their out of town guest and was working on evacuating people close to the fight.

Emma should have been doing the same thing. Only from what she could tell, safely hidden behind someone’s ancient Oldsmobile, her big guns were being really terrible at their job. 

Which meant she probably needed to step in and help with the fight rather than the evacuation.

She glanced down at her hands and tried to envision all the magic she was supposed to be able to command. Then she sighed and peeked out again. 

Regina was back in the air darting around like a superhero and making the magic thing look annoyingly easy.

“Wow, she makes that magic stuff look annoyingly easy huh?”

Emma wasn’t proud of how high she jumped before twisting around. “Neal? What the hell are you doing here?”

He’d snuck up beside her and was crouched down watching the fight with casual awe. He tried to look at Emma instead of the fight, “Was making sure you were okay.”

“That’s sweet, but shouldn’t you be more worried about your fiancé?”

The crows feet around his eyes deepened as he frowned. “Evacuated to some old bomb shelter by your dad. Which is where we should be.” He tried reaching for her arm. All presumptuously. Like bagel breakfasts and sheepish apologies were enough to just settle him back into her life.

She yanked her arm away. “I’m **Sheriff,** Neal. My job is to be here.”

“I think they can handle it.” He winced as someone **didn’t** handle it just over her shoulder. “I mean eventually. They’re not actually doing so great now.”

“Which is why I’m here and why you should be with your fiancé. Safe.”

“ **She’s** fine. **You** aren’t.” Someone else behind them fell and Neal winced in sympathy. Then he was back on her. “I mean what the hell are you supposed to do?”

“Help her.” 

The words were coming from Emma’s mouth, but it wasn’t actually **her** saying them. She stared up at the woman suddenly standing just behind Neal. An older version of herself in broken glasses. 

Emma’s personal ghost.

Neal noticed her staring and looked too. “What are you looking at?”

“Can you feel the cold Emma?” Suddenly the other her was kneeling just in front of her—her head shifting **through** Neal. She jerked back, her shoulders slamming into the car. “She’s always been so cold. You have to feel it.”

Regina. 

She’d gotten used to the chill of Regina’s magic. It was like the white noise of a city. A constant and comforting drone. But when she focused she could still feel it. Just there on the fringe. A cold like death itself.

Emma nodded.

“It’s growing and she doesn’t know it.”

“What are you,” she finally whispered. Her voice dull and terrified in her ears. 

The other her wasn’t capable of much and all of it was drenched in melancholia that was as chilly as the cold creeping up Emma’s arm. “An echo.”

 

####

Regina didn’t always fly. It was a short term solution that usually left her drained and hungry. She could only stay in the air flinging fireballs so long before exhaustion would hit or she’d be stuck calling on other sources of energy.

She was worried she already had though. Her hand was clumsy and cold and when she landed next to Aurora for a quick tete a tete Aurora kept staring at her neckline in horror.

“Are you all right,” she asked.

She shook her hand out. “I will be.”

“You’re half gray,” she whispered gently. “That can’t be good.”

“Neither is the giant ape trying to destroy the town.”

“Regina—“

“And it’s not like you’re actually helping. You and Killian are too pissed off at each other to do more than flail.”

“At least we aren’t taking the Dark One curse **literally**. You look like you fell out of his world.” Aurora stabbed her finger in Kong’s direction.

“How would you even know what his world is like? That would mean looking anywhere beyond your own selfish needs.”

“ **I’m** selfish. I didn’t send my friends to New York City to recover and asshole so I could stay back and make passes at the sheriff!”

“That wasn’t how it happened.”

“And **I** haven’t been hiding my relationship from my friends for weeks. Unlike some people here **I** actually discuss my feelings.”

“Fat lot of good that’s done the drunk pira—“

Killian’s body colliding with Aurora and Regina ended all ill-timed arguments. As pirates being flung at a person tended to do. They went down in a tangle of writhing limbs.

Regina managed to get her head and one arm out from other the other two. It was just in time to see Kong stumble back towards them--his movements clumsy and erratic.

And there wasn't enough time. His foot was coming down. The leather sole rushing towards their upturned faces. She could hear the whoosh of a gasped curse from Killian and feel Aurora's hand suddenly clutching her leg.

And there wasn't enough time. Not to teleport them all out of the way. Not intact.

There was just enough time for Regina to throw up her hand and close her eyes and hope she still had enough magic in her to hold Kong back.

But the crush of Kong's weight never came. Just a flash of familiar light and a hint of ozone in the air. When she opened her eyes she found Emma looming over them, red in the face and with the whole weight of the monster on her back.

“Hey,” she wheezed. “Could you guys get clear already?”

“Emma how—“

“I’m doing that whole channeling magic thing. I may suck at fireballs, but I’m thinking this super strong thing comes naturally.”

Aurora wordlessly darted away. Killian took a moment to grimly nod his thanks before following.

Regina didn't move.

Above them Kong roared and continued pressing down. The asphalt under Emma’s feet fractured. Cratered.

“Hurry,” Emma grunted.

But Regina instead reached out and to cradle her face. Emma's magic, wild and powerful, sparked at the touch and she pulled her hand away. “You can’t do this.”

“Too late.”

“I can help—“

“I’ve got Ghost of Christmas Future warning me you’re headed to the Dark Side so no thanks. Just run. I’ll be okay.”

“No, but—“

“No buts, or magic. Just go Regina. I’ll be fine.” She sank another few inches into the road. “Can’t say my knees will like me, but I’ll be okay.”

 

####

Emma hadn’t really had thoughts doing their thoughts thing when she’d seen people she liked, and Hook, about to be crushed. There was just a “save them” compulsion that had sent her teleporting down the street and directly under the biggest plantar wart she’d ever seen.

She was pretty sure it didn’t matter that it was Regina she was risking her life for. It could have just been Hook and Sinbad and she still would have tried to help. But saving Regina felt good. She kind of got that thing about Superman and Lois Lane when she was holding a few ton of gorilla and had her girlfriend staring up at her with no small amount of wonder.

Emma had a girlfriend.

A girlfriend she’d just saved from King Kong.

“Go,” she reiterated.

Only Regina didn’t go. Even though the curse was creeping up her neckline and looking like a tacky scarf. Her hand was hot and cold all at once against Emma's cheek, but her lips were ice when they pressed against hers.

"I'm not leaving you," she whispered, her breath the only part of her truly warm. "And you don't get to leave me."

All of Kong's weight seemed to be on Emma's shoulders. Her legs were being slowly driven into the ground. Her arms quivered. "Regina--"

Regina shooshed her. Then kissed her again. 

Something cold and invigorating and unmistakably **magic** shivered through her. "What are you doing?"

"I've been taking your magic for weeks. It's time to give some back."

"But--"

"Just hold on. If they're smart they'll realize we're keeping the ape off balance and--"

There was the sound of feet beating against the pavement. Then a grunt. Above them Kong groaned. Regina wrapped herself around Emma. The weight above Emma shifted and she dropped her head onto Regina's shoulder.

Kong groaned again. 

She heard Regina's intake of breath. 

So she did what felt natural and pushed. Her triceps screamed from the exertion. More magic surged through her.

Then the shadow they'd been hunkered in was gone and the ground shook as Kong collapsed backwards onto the street.

Regina smiled at her, all pretty and stunning. Like she wasn't half gray from the Dark One's curse. "See," she said, and Emma had to wonder when Regina had gotten so optimistic, "I knew they'd do it."

The "them" doing "it" was not the them Regina had thought it would be. Which was really obvious when they both stepped out of Kong's shadow and looked up to find David with a giant sword resting on his shoulder and an even more giant wolf curled around his legs and the sun backlighting both of them like heroes out of a cartoon. 

Regina used her bad hand to shade her eyes and her pleased grin fell away. 

Emma pulled her a little closer--because Regina definitely seemed to barely be standing on her own--and tried not to look awed. It wasn't cool for the sheriff to be awed by their deputy's ability to take out a bajillion foot tall monkey with a sword and a badass werewolf.

"David," she called up, sounding way too confused to be cool, "What are you doing here?"

The wolf beside him turned back into Ruby and slugged David in the arm. "Nice to know we still have it."

He was ignoring his own daughter. Instead sheathing his sword and chatting with Ruby casually. "Yeah I was kind of worried with my poor depth perception and you being out of the game."

"I'm not out of the game. Emma's always working my butt off." She jerked her thumb in Emma's direction and David squinted at her like he was trying to figure out if there was some innuendo in there.

Which…valid. Everything Ruby said was laden with innuendo.

"You work her butt off," Regina murmured.

"Not like that. But with work. **Actual** work." Regina sagged a little and Emma repositioned her hand to better support her, but kept her eyes on David and Ruby, "And why are you two here?! You're supposed to be getting people to safety."

"We did," David said, "and then we saw that you--I mean--they--"

"It was a hot mess so we came to help."

She could actually **feel** Regina bristling at the perceived insult. "We were not a ‘hot mess.’ We've just been having…issues."

"Like Hook trying to kill us," Aurora snapped, appearing from behind a building with twigs in her hair.

"Once," Hook cried, coming from the other direction with a thorny branch still clinging to his arm. "And I apologized." He struggled to yank the branch off with his hook. "Repeatedly. **You're** the one with issues princess."

"A man I trusted tried to murder me. Shocking."

Regina rolled her eyes, "Oh like you were the only one nearly murdered. I seem to recall getting shoved down into that pit right along side you."

"See," Hook shouted, pointing at Regina, "She forgives me."

“Please. She's an emotionally needy idiot. She'd forgive Hitler if he said he wanted to be her friend."

"Hit-who?"

"I am not emotionally needy." Regina pushed away--pausing briefly to shoot Emma an apologetic look. Then she was back to limping over to the other two so they could continue their "discussion."

Ruby leapt off Kong (still alive judging by the rise and fall of his chest) to land lightly beside Emma. "I think they need couples counseling."

David landed heavily beside her. "I think that might end with Archie killing them all."

"Or at least Hook," Emma agreed.

Ruby tilted her head. "Isn't there a fourth one?"

"Usually." 

Mulan, looking more like a dark cloud of pure fury than an actually human being, came from the direction of the pond, squelching by them without so much as a nod.

"You know," Emma observed, "I get these feelings sometimes. Like something bad is gonna happen? And that," she nodded at the bickering foursome, "is giving me bad feelings."

"Worse than the giant monkey," David asked.

"Much worse," Ruby said. When they both look at her in confusion she shrugged, "I get those feelings too. And **that** is curse level disaster over there."

Really only one portion of the foursome was curse level. Mulan, Aurora and Hook could do a lot of damage to the town and people, but Regina was the one wielding the power of dark gods or whatever. And she was still gray from the neck down--the magic brushing up against Emma as cold as a Maine winter night.

She shivered.

David stepped closer, his own warmth a beacon Emma had to work hard not to be drawn to. "You okay," he asked, his voice low enough that even though Ruby could probably here she knew it was supposed to be private.

"Yes. No." She turned back to King Kong, still passed out on the street. "Someone sent that monkey after us. And it happened to be at the exact same time a huge rift formed in our "famous" group over there."

"It's a coincidence."

"We both know when magic's at play there are no coincidences David."

"She's right," Ruby said. "This thing reeks of magic, and not the good kind."

"What is it then? A distraction? A vanguard for some," he waved his hands around, "invasion?"

Ruby pointedly sniffed again, "Maybe a vessel?"

"A what?" David stared at Ruby.

Emma stared too, because she had no idea what the hell she was talking about.

Ruby reached out to touch the sole of Kong's foot. "It could be some kind of--"

Her musings were interrupted by half the town charging up the street in a herd, with Mary Margaret and Henry at the forefront. Henry slammed into her and wrapped his arms around her tightly--knocking a whole lot of air out of her lungs.

"Hey kid that's--"

"--Was amazing! You were like the Hulk!"

She ran her hand through his hair.

"And Mom--Mom!" He shouted and Regina stopped arguing to limp back over to them. "You flew! Like--like Iron Man!"

Regina ruffled his hair but gave Emma a soft smile, "Why are we both superheroes? Does this world not have any superheroines?"

He ignored her and instead eagerly recounted the entire battle, with whooshes, whumps and a litany of curse words he really shouldn't have known.

The way Regina and her little trio had stopped arguing and were all blushing and failing at chastising him meant he was doing a verbatim retelling. 

"Kid how exactly did you see all that?"

"Grams and I watched from the roof."

Mary Margaret winced when Regina and Emma both rounded on her. "We were watching to support!"

"And how exactly is nearly getting my son killed supportive?"

"Oh please Regina, he was hardly in any danger. At least not after **my** daughter got involved. And **my** husband. And **my** friend." Something way too savage to be a grin crossed her face, "What exactly were you doing at the end?"

"Sister's got a point." When the hell had Leroy gotten there? "Walter and Dopey would have been of more use than your 'thieves' and you. And they wouldn't have wrecked half the town bringing that beast down."

Everyone, including Dopey and Walter, nodded. A murmur of discontented agreement rippled through the crowd.

"Hey, let's all--"

"Calm down," David shouted. "Regina and her friends put their lives on the lines to bring this beast down."

"And they wrecked the town," Leroy cried. "Just like they did when Cora attacked and just like they did when that fairy killer showed up. They're a menace."

Another murmur.

Hook scowled and stepped up beside Regina, putting them between Aurora and Mulan and the crowd. Regina laughed. "Please. I didn't see any of **you** during the fights. Maybe cowering." She loomed over Leroy, smiling darkly. "Hiding."

"We would have helped," someone in the crowd shouted. Others agreed.

Regina just smirked, "Oh I'm sorry, was I supposed to send out invitations?”

Leroy's barrel chest jutted out, "Or maybe you could have let the officials handle it. We got a savior sheriff and a deputy prince for a reason."

A voice, high and clear, run out. "Oh, so she's back to sheriff now? How cute." 

 

####

Everyone else watched the figures who'd crawled out of Kong's mouth with curiosity. They were all busy taking in their definitely not of this world brass and canvas deep sea diving suits. And the color of their skin. One jade. One pearl.

The rest of the mob, her friends, her son, even Emma, were all just curious. Perhaps confused. It wasn't every day you watched two people crawl out of a giant ape's mouth. Certainly not people with skin the color of jewels.

Regina was in the same position. She wasn't used to people using giant apes to transport their own selves across time and space.

And she wasn't accustomed to seeing people with skin the color of jade and pearl.

But she knew the two women sauntering down Kong's torso. 

She'd nearly ripped them apart with a thought once upon a time. 

Seeing them alive and grinning wickedly like the little witches they were she desperately wish she **had** ripped them apart.

The two witches laughed. Their cackles grating in her ear. "Look at all of them," the green one said.

"The stone ones are flesh again," the white one said.

"And the city's gone."

"Long gone."

"What did you do Swan?"

"Yes Swan? What did you do while we were gone?”

Emma, having not waged war with the witches for ten years, just frowned. "I'm sorry. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"No."

"I don't think you do."

Their eyes glossed over Regina. Instead focusing on Henry, pressed between her and Emma. The white one grinned first. "Time has been rewritten."

The green one's eyes brightened. "Yes. Yes. Old is young again."

"And dead alive."

"And progress lost."

"What did you do--"

"Little Henry?"

 

####

Emma wasn't about to wait for the two crazy rainbow ladies to start making sense. Not when they were glaring at Henry with the kind of unsettling zeal that would have raised her hackles even if he **wasn't** her son.

She took a step towards them and put herself directly between them and Henry. "He didn't do anything. So why don't you calm down and we'll figure this out."

They both laughed. It was like glass breaking.

"Figure this--"

"Out?"

Fantastic. The friggin' Bobbsey twins had invaded Storybrooke. "You're obviously confused," she said carefully.

"Oh no. We're far from confused."

"Your son has done something to destroy our world."

"And we'll have the truth from him. Now."

Ice crept out from the center of Emma's locket and Regina spoke through gritted teeth--her eyes hot with fury. "You want to know why your paradise is lost? Then look at me."

She didn't wait for the two women to actually look at her. Her foot slammed into the ground and a barrier of magic blew up in front of them.

"Get Henry out of here," she growled to no one specifically. Then she was launching herself over her barrier and lobbing fireballs at both women. 

It wasn't the epic display of power between her and Cora or the messy fight between her and the fairy killer. There was cool focus and startling precision to Regina's attacks. Her hands rose and fell and pieces of the world around them were quick to her aid. Car doors flying up to block gouts of fires and chunks of broken road smashing into dislodged telephone poles.

People screamed.

Scattered as debris smashed into the barrier.

"Are those witches," Emma asked.

Mulan's fingers twitched on the hilt of her sword. 

"They're wicked witches right? Like Wizard of Oz?"

Mulan almost shrugged. "She said she had sisters."

"Those are my aunts?"

"Henry get back."

"But if they're my aunts--"

Regina was flung over their heads. She smashed into a house which immediately collapsed from the assault.

"We are your aunts," the green one crowed.

"Nice of you to remember us."

It was Hook and Aurora who reacted. Mulan helped, pushing Henry away from the women while pointing her sword at them menacingly. And David did join her. And Emma did stand between them and start calling up all that magic Regina had been teaching her to use.

But Hook and Aurora were the ones on the offensive. One letting loose half a quiver of arrows in a few seconds while the other was suddenly just **there** sliding the blade of his saber in between a green woman's ribs.

For half a second the dispersing crowd and drone of a far off motorcycle was white noise and those that remained, poised to fight, were still. The white witch stared at the arrows jutting out of her like pins in her cushion and the green witch looked at the hole created by Killian's sword and there was--okay it wasn't peace--but there was a beat of calm that hung in the air.

Then both women laughed.

They didn't die. Or explode. Or melt or whatever the hell dead witches did. They just laughed and pointed at their wounds with honest to god **mirth**.

Emma groaned. "Oh my God we get it. You're evil witches and you have apparently spent thirty years perfecting your cackle. **Enough**."

"Tell you what--" The green one vanished and reappeared, arm around Emma's shoulders. 

"You give us Henry--" The other disappeared and reappeared by Henry, hand firmly on his shoulder.

"And you all get to live." Green witch (was that the one from the west?) squeezed Emma's shoulder. 

David and Mulan both still had their swords drawn and looked to Emma, waiting for a signal to attack. "Not crazy about that deal," she said.

"Perhaps no one told you how this story ends Emma. But you should know," she leaned in, the thick canvas of her suit creaking, "we always get what we want."

Most of the crowd had disappeared. The noise of traffic was gone. For the most part. Someone, somewhere, was on a motorcycle--the whine of its shifting gears just far enough away to not be piercing.

Emma put her hand, all friendly like, over the witch's. "I got a bad feeling I know who you two are, so there's something you should know about me too." She spun around, keeping the other woman's hand on her shoulder and then using it to pull her into a really good right jab to her previously unbroken nose. "I'm not her."

Blood--cartoonishly red--splurted out of the woman's nose and she fell to the ground, green hands trying vainly to keep all that red at bay.

Before her sister, or whatever the hell she was, could vanish away with Henry or come after Emma, Neal was ramming into her with a motorcycle, throwing Henry onto the back of it, pausing just long enough to squeeze a helmet onto Henry's head, and speeding away.

 

####

She was really. Really. **Really** tired of being thrown into buildings. She was a sorceress as powerful as gods and a nightmare that haunted children in their beds and she kept. Getting. Thrown. Into buildings!

And she kept seeing her.

A dead woman looming in the debris.

"Go away."

"I can't," the long gone Emma Swan said sadly. "I'm--"

"Dead. And you're apparently the only part of that world that's stayed that way."

She didn't have a body so when Emma walked through the wrecked house to sit next to Regina, splayed out on half a window and a bed and covered in a good bit of roof, her movements made no noise. 

"Couldn't you be haunting those two?"

Emma smiled, "There's only one Mills sister I want to haunt."

"Yes, haunt the one trying to save the town and protect our son. Much more useful than haunting the two insanely evil ones who hitched a ride **in** King Kong to get here."

She reached out as if to brush the hair out of Regina's eyes. Only her phantom touch was a cool breeze. "Is my haunting you really that bad?"

Regina sank back into the debris in sullen silence. 

A motorcycle raced by outside--its engine a deafening rattle that shook loose broken glass from shattered window frames. Soon there were booms and the sharp report of guns.

She closed her eyes.

The living Emma was out there tugging on magic and knowledge she could only barely grasp.

"She needs your help."

Regina opened her eyes to find the dead Emma perched heroically on a fallen armoire and surveying the battle outside.

Carefully she extricated herself from the debris and limped over to stand beside her. Her bad hand went to her ribs to try and contain the pain lurking there and she noticed how gray it was. How gray **she** was. 

"If I help…I don't think I'll be able to hold the Dark One's curse back."

Emma stared at her through glasses that had no reflection.

"That’s what you want isn't it? For them to see the last monster you saw?"

Emma's face was a mask. "What I want doesn't matter. It never has."

 

####

Time had a habit of stopping when people were throwing around magic. Emma didn't really understand it. Just like she didn't understand how she could be some kind of all powerful magic savior when she'd spent twenty-nine years associating the stuff with two dudes and their white tigers.

Magic was supposed to be slight of hand and overpriced tricks bought in the mall. Not the punch she threw powerful enough to shatter a fire hydrant or fire arcing through the air and aiming for her head. Or a woman who could appear in a puff of smoke and save her with a single outstretched hand.

Regina burst out of the house she'd crashed into like a bullet and was standing in front of Emma saving her from getting toasted one second and then tossing a witch with her mind the next.

"Get the boy," the green one shouted and then an honest to god **broom** appeared in the white one's hand and she streaked off on it like she was living the Harry Potter life.

Regina burst off after her.

"I'm never gonna get over the flying," Emma muttered.

"Yeah," David sighed, "that's a new one."

"So she can fly without a broom," the green one grumbled, wiping flecks of debris off herself. "She's not immortal."

"That may be the case," Hook said.

"But you're the one outnumbered," Aurora announced, another arrow trained on her.

The witch held her hand out and another broom materialized. "Honey, I'm an immortal witch who rules the whole west of Oz. I'm never outnumbered."

 

####

Emma pulled herself half out of the police cruiser to study the sky. "There! I saw a fireball up ahead."

In the driver's seat Hook pressed down on the gas pedal, and leaned into the steering wheel like he could just **will** the car to go faster. 

She slid back down into the passenger seat and tried not to bounce with nervous energy. The two of them had abandoned everyone else to chase after the witches, the girlfriend, the ex and the kid.

It had only taken them two minutes to spy the fireballs, and Emma was hoping that the fireballs would also lead to her son. And maybe a solution.

"Did you see how grey Regina was when she took off?"

Hook gritted his teeth and his hook twisted on the wheel. "I'm one-handed, not blind. And if you'd let me cut that hand off she wouldn't be running headlong into a curse that will kill her."

"Hey, I wasn't the only one poo pooing the hand idea. Regina wasn't crazy about it either."

He actually scoffed, "Of course she wouldn't be. It's her hand! You think anyone **wants** a hook for a hand?"

"From the way you talk--"

"I compensate. Because the last Dark One decided to punish me by taking my hand and the woman I love. And now the new Dark One's trying to do…"

He stopped talking. 

Like he was gonna say something he’d regret. Or she’d regret. Or they’d all— “Hook…"

"Regina's my friend." He sounded pained. "And she's fighting off those witches and very likely destroying herself for people who don't love her." He kept his eyes on the road when he spoke.

"Henry loves her."

"Maybe. But let's not pretend he's the only one she's doing this all for. He wasn't the one being crushed to death by King Kong."

“Do us both a favor and stay out my relationship.”

“That what it is? Here I thought you were just boffing her to get over Baelfire.”

She wasn’t about to engage with the idiot. Not with all the other stuff on her plate. Above them an explosion blossomed and the two women on brooms rocketed forward after the motorcycle just coming into view. Emma and Hook both sat forward trying to spot Regina in the sky a— “Left!”

Hook veered left and Regina landed loudly on the hood of the cruiser. It dented inward from the impact. Then she leapt off again, chasing after the two witches.

“Try to get us past the magic show and up to Henry and Neal.” 

Hook glared at her incredulously.

“I’ve got an idea okay. But it only works if the people **leading** this parade know what I’m thinking.”

Scowling Hook stepped on the gas. “You’re not being fair to her.”

“Seriously?”

“You’re using her. Over and over again, and it isn’t fair.”

They were closing in on Neal and Henry. Henry’s small form huddled against his dad’s back. 

“You know what isn’t fair?” She peered out the back of the cruiser to try and spy Regina and the witches. “What isn’t fair is being orphaned by a curse. Or abandoned to jail. Or forced to give up your kid so he can have the chance at a life that you never did.”

“You’re blaming Regina?“

“Of course I blame her! Just like I blame my parents, Neal, August and every other person who made a shitty decision that fucked up my life. Doesn’t mean I don’t care about her, or any of them. But you know what I’m tired of? I’m tired of fate and all those people that believe in it running my life. I want something for **me** Hook. And Regina gets that.”

“You’re using her.”

“And she’s letting me.”

They came up beside Neal and Henry and Emma rolled her window down, leaning out of the car and shouting instructions to Neal. The wind whipping past forcing her to repeat herself, louder and louder every time.

Neal glanced at her and Henry looked stricken. 

She slid back into the car and was met with an incredulous Hook, “Your idea, to stop two immortal murderous witches, is to leave town?”

“There’s no magic past the border. Which means they’re mortal. It should slow Regina’s curse too.”

Up ahead the forest was giving way to the fields beyond Storybrooke. Emma shook her hands, letting the magic flicker through her.

“They’re also more than twenty feet in the air. The minute they fly through that barrier they’ll be dead!”

“I’m not an idiot Hook.” She went through all those lessons Regina had try to give her. The ones she’d half ignored so she could make out with her new girlfriend to feel good. “I have a plan.”

“You have a plan.” He didn’t believe her.

All of Regina’s lessons had been about control. Nothing about making mattresses or ponds or anything else that could break a fall. “Not a **good** plan.” 

“If she dies Swan—“

“Just shut up!” She concentrated on her locket—brimming with Regina’s magic knowledge. All the things Regina had begged her not to touch. “I just need…to concentrate.”

She could see the back of the welcome sign. See the “Now Leaving” sign opposite it.

“We’re running out of time!”

Going into the locket and pulling out the magic she needed was like wading into a pool full of algae. Slick and odd and nearly impossible to navigate.

“Now’s your chance, Swan.”

She pulled herself back half out of the car, her butt resting on the open window. Out there Hook was just wind in her ears. She glanced up. Spotted Regina. 

For just a moment they saw one another. Regina breathless and furious and breathtaking and dying.

And Emma, her savior.

 

####

They just had a moment. One stretch of time that lasted much longer in their heads than in reality. Regina glanced down at the police cruiser that had been chasing them and spied Emma hanging out of it and looking up at her.

They were headed towards the edge of town. Regina wasn’t so caught up in the fight that she didn’t see that. Only she couldn’t slow down or stop if she wanted to keep Henry safe. All she could do was keep pace with her “sisters” and keep them distracted long enough for them to cross the town line. Then, at her speed and height, she’d hit the ground on the other side of the barrier like a meteor.

Unless Emma saved her life.

 

####

It was something about physics. They all hit the barrier, but instead of plummeting straight down like she’d expect them to they fell in an arc.  

Emma had to take all that confusing magic bumping around between her head and the locket and shoot it out of her hands. It created a gust of wind Dorothy Gale would have been proud of. One that rushed ahead of her through the barrier. Regina was caught in the updraft—hanging briefly—before hitting the ground.

Hard.

“She’ll be fine,” Emma insisted. Her assurances not sounding too hollow in her ear.

The other two were, at least, a lot less fine. With no magic wind to slow their fall they smacked into the ground and skidded across the asphalt—gouging up dirt and grass as they drifted into the field beyond.

 

####

She heard the squeal of brakes on hot metal wheels. Heard the sound of dirt and gravel crushed beneath car tires. Heard feet pattering across the road and cries and hugs. She tried to pushed herself up to her knees but everything was dull and slow.

Her hand was in the shade of her body and she stared at it. At skin that was brown like sand on a beach far from Maine. Not gray or muddy like Maine sand. Like it might have been. Like it should have been.

The curse had been pushed back. At least for a little while. All of her shoved back from a precipice of…evil or darkness or power. She dug her fingers into the ground and marveled at the feeling of dirt catching in her nails.

A darker shadow fell of her and a cool hook caught her arm, “You all right,” Killian asked—his voice too gruff with worry.

She was, but she was too tired to say much and only managed a nod. “Henry?” Her voice was rough.

Killian knelt next to her and smelled like burning fuel and spiced rum. “He’s all right. Baelfire kept him safe. Can you mo—“

“Mom!” Henry slammed into her before she could even register the sound of him. Killian’s hook around her arm was the only thing keeping her from falling. 

Carefully she put her other arm around Henry’s slender shoulders and press her face to the top of his head. “I’m all right,” she whispered, and even Henry had to know it was a little bit of a lie.

She looked past him, and past the long hang of Killian’s coat, and spied Emma, standing apart and looking…Regina closed her eyes. For once she was too exhausted to try and understand what **this** Emma in **this** time was thinking about her.

Emma came closer. “I’m glad you’re all right,” she spoke softly. Almost shyly.

The corners of Regina’s mouth tipped upwards. “Thanks for catching me.”

That earned a smile that Regina didn’t have to try to read. It was honest. Warm. 

 

####

“You were—” a hitched gasp, “the only one she caught.”

Emma spun around, drawing her gun and stepping protectively in front of Henry and Regina on instinct.

“I didn’t see her—“ another gasp, “catching anyone else.” 

It was the pale white witch. Limping towards them with one arm slack at her side and the other cradling ribs that jutted, violently, from her chest. The broken bones were sleek and as white as her pallid skin.

“I thought magic didn’t work,” Hook muttered, standing shoulder to shoulder with her.

Regina grunted and stood behind them. “I guess magic peaches trump whatever keeps magic out of this world.”

“Not completely,” Emma noted. “She’s not looking so great.”

“Good enough,” the witch sneered. Her mouth was a splash of red against her skin. “Good enough to kill all of y—“

The wicked witch of whatever the hell direction she was didn’t get to finish that threat. Because David’s truck smacked into her and she was pulled under those big tires that he’d just replaced and chewed up like meat in one of those sausage machines at the butchers.

She really hoped Regina had remembered to cover Henry’s eyes because as far as Emma was concerned it was the most horrifying thing she’d seen in her close to thirty years on the earth, and that included seeing a guy killed when she was fifteen and watching Regina rip apart a man with her mind.

The body just sort of lay there, leaking fluid onto the pavement. Neal, on the other side of the body with the bike and car, looked green. Hook covered his mouth and nose with his hand.

What was as much, if not more shocking, then the sudden sort of demise of a wicked witch, was who got out of David’s truck. The truck’s engine was still going, like it had been hot wired to start and they hadn’t bothered to undo the wire job. Which was probably the case because Emma had never seen the woman who got out of the truck.

And she would have noticed her. Storybrooke, Maine was about as lily white as a small town in Nebraska and the number of people who weren’t white Emma could count on two hands and a toe. If there’d been a gorgeous black woman with a cocky witch killing grin and ruby red shoes on her feet just hanging out in Storybrooke Emma would have remembered.

Hot wired truck and excellent timing aside whoever she was she was still **new**. Like the half dead witches and Neal and his fiancé.

She peered at Emma like Emma ought to know her. “Someone want to tell me what’s going on,” she asked—her accent carrying the barest hint of the south.

Emma, still incredibly confused, holstered her gun. “How about you tell us who you are first.”

It was Regina who answered, breathless, just a moment before she fainted dead away. “Dorothy?”


End file.
